Exclamation Mark: !
by Yugicanbesexy
Summary: Here it is the sequal to Question Mark: ?. Sherlock still tormented about that night of the black gang, but just when he puts the night behind him, clues and whispers tell him the impossible is true. Suzanne Miles might be still alive.
1. Dreams To Dreams

!

Chapter One: Dreams To Dreams

Three Months earlier…

*11:00pm, Suzanne, 221B Baker Street*

Suzanne walked into 221B Baker Street and threw her coat onto the coach. She closed her eyes her fingers and thumbs knitted together as she relaxed. She smiled as the smells and texture of the little flat surrounded her, she breathed out her smile broadening why did she feel like she had been away?

She frowned slightly she kept her thoughts on the smell and the feeling fluttering through her: she didn't want to awaken.

She heard someone in the door way, she turned to look at them; she knew who it was in an instance. Sherlock Holmes. She felt a breath leave her lips a little as she sat up. Why did she feel like she had been away for so long?

"Sherlock?" she asked.

"Suzanne," he murmured, his breathing changed showing he was grinning at her. By his breaths whereabouts she could tell he was leaning against the door frame…She smiled at him, her heart hadn't banged like this in a long time.

She stood up as she felt him walk towards her. She stopped at the small coffee table, a small barrier between them. She felt his soft hands cup her cheek in his hand. He gently tilted her head up so he could meet her lips.

She smelt his scent suddenly so close to her. She couldn't help but put her slim arms around his long neck, pulling herself as close to him as possible. She moaned gently into him, Sherlock's body warmth going through hers.

He stepped over the table with ease so the barrier was broken between them. She felt her back suddenly on the sofa; she could still smell his scent.

Sophie walked in: "Suzanne? She asked raising an eyebrow at her.

Suzanne fell off of her sofa "I was um…um…Just taking a nap…"

*08:00am Christmas Eve, Suzanne, Her little apartment share in Paris*

Sophie tutted rolling her eyes as she exited. Suzanne felt Sherlock's scarf around her nose and head. She shakily put herself back onto her sofa. She rubbed her eyes it had just been a dream…again. She pulled the scarf off of her face. She lay back on the sofa, still wearing her iconic black clothes and her green coat was draped over her for a blanket.

She sat up cracking her back; she missed lying in her own bed instead of someone else's sofa. "Half a year on a lumpy sofa really does stuff to your back" she murmured. Her sister's flat though comfortable and smelled nice had only one bedroom and bathroom.

Suzanne tiredly put her long arm onto the floor feeling for her shoes until at last finding the things. She plodded into the bed room to get a change of clothes: life was boring. She had lived in France for half a year and it was boring. Her life in Britain hadn't been perfect but she had her studies and then she had Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. She felt a small sob escape her lips.

She missed him. She had thrown it all away, for what? Maybe she had been so scrambled by her inner hurt and betrayal inflicted by her brother. She leant against the sink (because she had been suddenly spirited away by her thoughts to her bathroom); she knew it had been more though.

She had felt scared…

She had never loved anyone…

Apart from Sophie's strained relationship…but not truly…

People never seemed to like her and so she never liked people…

She had felt scared when Sherlock had kissed her…She knew it would never be an easy ride with Sherlock…But she had never felt so scared…

Scared of rejection...

Scared of her own feeling…

Scared of the future….

?

She didn't know. She splashed water into her face trying to wash away the thoughts. She shook her head hard to get the water out of her hair. She brushed her teeth: boring, she washed her hair: boring, she sprayed herself with some herbal deodorant: boring, she dried and brushed her hair: boring and at last got changed into another set of black clothes and her jacket: boring. It took her mind off things though; she found that if she surrounded herself with her outer insignificant problems then her inner significant problems and depression were pushed away for a while.

She rubbed her eyes hard trying to get all of the sleep out of them, she hadn't been sleeping properly; not that she was a deep sleeper beforehand.

Sophie was dolling herself up for her city friends as Suzanne walked to the table and sucked on a piece of toast.

"You're more than invited to come" Sophie called in the other room.

"And do what? Listen to you and your friends talking about useless things about people leading useless lives…no I'm doing some investigations under that court case that was hasn't been resolved yet: the one about the killer phone calls."

"Suzanne tomorrow's Christmas…why not go shopping with me and my girlfriends."

"Oh come on Sophie you know how much I hate _clothes_ shopping and _shoe_ shopping for hours on end…apart from the textures of silk and leather, shopping doesn't really win me over."

"…But its Christmas!"

"Oh Sophie what does that matter! It's just a holiday which was made up by over worked men to get a descent holiday and small brained people like you are sucked into the whole noise of it!"

Sophie didn't say anything…Suzanne knew she had crossed a line (unlike Sherlock Suzanne can read people very easily) she sighed taking off her coat. Here it came:

"Fine! Alright! I'll go with you!" she sighed she was soooooooooooo going to regret this.

*03:00pm, Suzanne, back in her flat share apartment*

Suzanne lay down on her sofa god that had been rough. Apart from the BORINGNESS of the situation, the shopping for stuff she will never really need or want, and the hearing and expecting to partake in useless mindless chatter. Was by far the cherry on the cake: Sophie's friends or _girl_friends as they are now referred to as.

The fact they had to speak very slowly and loudly like she couldn't understand them. The fact they wouldn't leave her alone: they had to take her arm wherever she went and tell everyone in the shopping centre that she was blind. Hell they even had the cheek to tell her she could easily just go to a toy shop like she was mentally handicapped. She growled a little at the memory it had taken all of her training and her expertise of not cracking under patronising human beings like them and smacking them.

She was still fuming when Sophie walked over to her quietly.

"No" she managed to growl at her step sister.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask" she sniffed.

"Sophie I may be as blind as a bat but I'm not dumb or deaf. I heard you and those lowest degrees of women talking about a Christmas drinks this evening and the answer is most certainly no. Tell them it's past my bedtime or I'm waiting for Father Christmas I really don't care anymore." She nearly shrieked at Sophie.

She turned over to her left so she was facing the sofa and not her step sister.

Sophie sniffed a little then walked away to have a shower. Suzanne walked up reached under the cushions and dug out her lap top and began to type her PC muttering to itself as she went:

_The Case Of The Killer Phones:_

_My first case in Paris is seven normal people with normal lives are being struck dead with suddenly microwave radiation to the brain. It can only be said that the phones are the ones transmitting because they are the only thing in common._

_The phones appear to be different makes, different broadband and different people with nothing in common and appear to have been chosen at random. The people are at home when they are killed in around at least three minutes to five minutes._

_The victims all have seemed to have gone out on a trip (though what seems to still be a mystery)._

She sat back thinking her head in her entwined fingers. A slight frown covered her forehead as she tried to picture why ordinary people where being killed. She didn't even hear Sophie walk out of her room or the clock strike five; the only thing that got her out of her thoughts was the ring of her email box in her lap top.

She felt the same rush build through her. Ever since she had left Britain she had sent a tape to Sherlock giving him her email, phone, mobile, address, and page number. Sherlock had yet to exercise these contacts but she was always hopeful. She shakily double clicked randomly waiting for the PC to load the international mail.

"Hi Suzy," declared the robotic voice, she immediately wilted with disappointment. She sighed then straightened herself up even more so. She pressed play again.

"Hi Suzy,

We at the detective agency have found a new clue. Come down to the station to find out. I hope you are well.

Please consider going out for a drink with me. I promise I won't bite. Anyway do you want a coffee or a cup of tea? Meet me at *_beep: message deleted_*.

She closed her lap top she would have to see that lead through. Her stomach growled for food but she barely heard it. Her depression was getting worse she closed her eyes and rubbed them. The detective inspectors in London where not nearly as…pushy as detective inspector John Val Joel. She rubbed her eyes when she first came to the force to get a job, she had felt the unsettling feeling he was looking at her. No she knew. She could tell the signs from various suitors that Sophie had brought:

Breathing through the mouth,

Hands slightly shaking,

Feet always pointing in the unfortunate's direction,

Grinning to themselves,

No communication outside texting and emailing, and when needs be through speech strained like they are in pain.

And finally the most annoying: the need to call her by nickname (even though on many occasions she had often asked for him to call her by her legal name).

She smirked to herself trying to imagine Sherlock that bent on getting into her bed (or sofa as the case was) that he'd demote himself to such levels.

She couldn't.

That's what she loved about him.

She smiled sadly. She shook herself hard. She shook a little too hard for she fell off of the sofa. She cursed to herself as she lifted herself back up onto the piece of nylon furniture. She sat back feeling even worse, it was Christmas Eve and she was sitting in some else's apartment and on someone else's sofa.

She had to do something.

Something crazy.

Something that will make her feel something. Whether it would make her feel a hell of a lot worse or better was done to fate. And a damn lot of luck.

She picked up her phone and began to dial a number slowly and carefully making sure she pushed all of the right buttons.

She sat back tensing her jaw. She had vowed she wouldn't do this. But she wasn't feeling herself.

Her old self wasn't lonely and bored. The old Suzanne would have done this on the first day instead of hiding behind tapes and feeling sorry for herself.

She would have called him: Sherlock

The phone began to calculate and at last dial the number. She was so tempted to just press the red button use the only escape rope.

The phone was suddenly picked up.

"Sherlock?" came a voice on the other end.

She immediately tensed but not by the name but by the woman's voice on the other end? Had she dialled correctly? She must have must because Sherlock's name was pretty unique.

"Who is this? Why are you calling?" she remembered that little squeak of a voice, which pretended she had confidence and self-esteem while she lacked all flawlessly.

Molly…?

"How did you get this phone?"

Phone? What phone? Sherlock's or hers?

"Is anyone there? Why do you have that bitch's phone?"

Yikes! Molly must be pretty angry at her. She must of read the number and the name attached to the details when the phone rang. Molly must be thinking someone is trying to play a joke on Sherlock.

She gulped a little and whispered at last:

"Molly…Why do you have Sherlock's phone?"

There was a sudden shriek on the other line, and then shouting footsteps running everywhere, She could easily hear Molly's voice shouting hysterically:

"I heard her! I'm sure I heard her!"

Again and again.

Suzanne narrowed her eyes trying to think and distinguish the different sound effects and voices. At last a voice that she had never heard before picked up the phone and spoke:

"Who is this? Why are you calling?" he had an accent like Scottish or welsh, he sounded serious but the serious people pretend and want to burst out laughing at any time.

She said nothing listening. Listening for a familiar voice.

"If you don't answer me I'll call the police."

'What on that phone' she thought rolling her eyes.

"Jim" Molly shrieked in the background "I heard her voice! Suzanne Miles is dead! She killed herself and now she BACK!"

Suzanne now remembered why she hadn't warmed up to Molly. This woman will be useless in a crisis. She was growing impatient with the whole situation.

She heard shouting she stopped she recognised the voice:

"Molly will you please be quiet I'm trying to look at a corpse here! Can you please keep your flings and yourself away from my bloody phone for five minutes!"

Suzanne flinched up tightening her muscles, she recognised that voice. The voice she had longed to hear for six months.

He heard the phone being snatched and waved through the air. Molly was screaming no to Sherlock.

Had Sherlock seen the number?

Had he seen her name?

Was he beginning to wonder?

She pressed her ear close to the phone listening there was a silence.

Then at last she heard:

"Hello? This is Sherlock Holmes."

~::~

Hi Yugicanbesexy here!

Thanks for reading and in a weeks (hopefully) time part two will come up!

Thanks for reading ^^.

(This is usually where the chapter ended but I felt I should combine the two chapters)

(Part two: Rage, Rage Against The Dying If The Light)

"Who is this?" He heard the caller breathe in sharply.

His hands were shaking, who had Suzanne's phone.

Molly and Jim where still in the room. Molly had her back pressed against a wall tears spraying down her face, still terrified and confused. Whereas Jim was standing a little too close for comfort to him his hand in his pocket.

Sherlock could hear his heart beating in his ears as the person gulped three times.

~::~

She couldn't get her words out. Damn her weakness, she breathed out her heart pounding, when an ear splitting bang suddenly ripped through the air.

~::~

Sherlock heard a loud bang in the background he heard an ear bleeding number of screams on the other line. And then it went dead.

The line had gone dead.

*?, ?, ?*

"Listen here you buffoons she nearly gave the game away, we have been working for months to try to split them up and trap them together. You are not repeat not messing this up!"

….

"What do you mean she is impossible? I'm coming over there to sort her out! And to sort you out!

…

"Stop crying! You have twenty four hours to leave Paris and never return…I'm going to do this myself!"

*10:09pm, Suzanne, apartment*

Suzanne groaned groggily as she sat up off of her dusty floor. She spat out some dust in her mouth, her arms and legs where killing her and why were her ears ringing?

She shook her head hard but heard a snap. Crap. She flicked it quickly to the left for it to snap back into place. She heard running and screaming, sirens, but the oddest thing about that was that the sounds where coming from outside not inside. And was that wind on her body?

She blacked out.

*12:12, Sherlock, physician room*

Sherlock turned off his phone still looking ahead. His jaw tightened as he put the phone in his pocket.

"Are you alright Sherlock?" asked Molly slowly from the other end of the room.

Sherlock sent a bone freezing glare at Molly, who sank even harder into the hard concrete. Even Jim took a step back. Sherlock walked to the door and walked down the corridor towards the exit. Obviously wanting to take his anger, confusion, sadness, but most of all rage out on something. Probably a man in his late forties lived with him and worked at the local hospital.

*06:32 am Christmas Day, Suzanne, the local hospital*

Suzanne was sitting bolt upright in her hospital bed reading a book, she was wearing one of those mint green gowns that was forced onto her when she was unconscious; when her sister ran in.

"We've got to stop meeting like this" she said not looking up, her rand running slowly over the bumps.

"What happened?" Sophie asked grabbing Suzanne's head into a bear hug.

Suzanne waited until the death choke released her. "I think your flat blew up."

"MY FLAT!" she shrieked.

"Well at least I'm okay and my coat, tape recorder, stick and tapes…That's all that really matters."

"What about my stuff?"

"Hmm? Oh I don't know you will have to ask them yourself."

Sophie sat down flabbergasted, she held her head in her hands, her home, her things…gone.

She let out a wail.

Suzanne patted her back still reading.

"Why? What have I done to deserve this?" she wailed up at the sky.

"I think someone wants to kill me" Suzanne muttered licking her thumb to turn the page.

Sophie turned her eyes wide and tearful "what why?"

"Well when it happened I was in the middle of doing something and right when it was the moment of-"

"Doing what?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Then tell me."

"I…I might have been…calling a certain…someone…"

"Sherlock!"

"Good guess sis."

"SHERLOCK!"

"What's the problem?"

"The problem is that you were nearly BLOWN UP!"

"Your problem?"

"You were nearly killed because you wanted to talk to him."

"What do you have against him? You barely know him."

"I know that you were nearly blown up."

Suzanne lay down exasperated they had barely had a conversation together and she was already wanting out of this situation. She rubbed her eyes, her brain all muddled over everything that had happened.

"I told you, you should have gotten a clean break and changed your name and appearance."

"I'll tell you what I told you then: my name is perfect and doesn't need to be altered, and anyway who'll be looking for me. And I'll tell you one more thing: I'm not changing my appearance for there is no point and we have no money."

"You just want your name to be intact when Sherlock, John, and all the other freaks in England go looking for you."

"Don't you have some doctors to be flirting with?"

Sophie walked off in a huff obviously to do just that or get a coffee.

Suzanne sat up thinking, her eyes narrowed in thought. Something was happening she'd be a fool to ignore it, could this be connected to the phone calls. Could somebody own all the mobiles in the world?

*09:13pm Christmas Day, Suzanne, council flat*

Suzanne wrinkled her nose through the smell of vomit, sex and shit. Sophie was trying not to crying sniffing and snorting through tears. Suzanne sighed as she threw her green coat onto the sofa and lay down.

She quite liked the Sophie that was too depressed to talk or try to connect with her, that way she could think and wallow in peace.

AT last three hours later Sophie seemed to have gotten her life together, and had stopped crying in the graphitised bath tub and was now calling agencies, friends, and distant families and even past boyfriends to see if they could be moved to another house.

At last some old flame named Matt said he'd put them both up for a while.

Sophie was now in a very, very, very good mood.

Suzanne felt a little sad when she heard Sophie beginning to hum to herself, for she liked this depressed Sophie, also the sofa was very comfy even if it did smell of left over curry, and she always knew that this guy Matt and Sophie will probably keep her up half the night doing sex.

Sophie just ordered a pizza when she put the phone down, Suzanne reached for it but Sophie snatched it away.

"What? My phone was broken during the explosion."

"You're not calling him."

"Calling? Calling who?"

"You know who."

"Sophie…Please come on…This is getting a little immature…what do you have against me calling him…them…My friends?"

"You DIED Suzanne. You are erased from their lives. And you expect them to bring you back with open arms."

"I sent Sherlock a message…You did send the message…Right?"

"…Yes…"

"…."

"…"

Suzanne lay down on the fluffy sofa thinking the conversation had ended.

"Oh My God."

"What?"

"He got you pregnant didn't he?"

"WHAT?" Where had that come from, she sighed "I wish" she whispered not meant to be said out loud.

"Are you?"

"NO!"

"Really?"

"POSITIVE!"

"Really? Because you're looking a little porky."

Suzanne sat up disgusted, looked down at herself then looked up at Sophie enraged "WHAT THE HELL? Sophie read my lips: I'M NOT PREGNANT! IF I WAS I WOULD BE THROWING UP, HAVING MOOD SWINGS, CRAVINGS, PARENTAL VIRTUAL AND ALL THAT CRAP! Another thing you need to have friggin' SEX! With a man to get pregnant which I haven't done in the last three months or even this year, you MORON!"

Sophie blinked blushing a little she then got off of the sofa (taking the phone with her) and left the room to find her room.

When the clock struck midnight she sat bolt upright doing to her coat she fished around in her pockets preying. Nothing. She felt tears going down her eyes; suddenly she felt something by her foot. Her heart pounding she managed to fish out Sherlock's scarf.

She smiled through the tears hugging it hard, she took a long sniff even though the scent had gone and it smelt of curry, fire, dust and her feet.

She laid down holding the scarf against her chest smiling a little.

"You're such a psycho Suzanne my dear." She murmured to herself.

"Such a bleeding Psycho."

I KNOW THIS IS VERY SHORT BUT ANOTHER UPDATE WILL COME MOMENTARILY!

THE NEXT ONE I WILL TRY TO BE LONGER! AND DON'T WORRY THEIR WILL BE SHERLOCK SOON!

JUST WONDERING…DO YOU THINK IF SUZANNE WAS REAL (AND SHERLOCK I SUPOSE ^^) THEY COULD WORK? GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS MY READERS!


	2. Look Who It Is

!

DX No one has reviewed so I better just shut up and write:

Chapter Three: Look Who It Is

*06:10am Boxing Day, Suzanne, Awaking on the sofa*

When Suzanne awoke she felt better. Not because she and her step sister had a flat but because Christmas was official over (at last). She stretched into a dog facing forward stretch to get rid of the crick in her back. She didn't always swoon over Sherlock; in fact she felt mighty embarrassed and stuffed that damn scarf under a pillow. But she only really missed him when she was on her own for long periods of time, other times she tried not to think of him, because he probably didn't care about her and thought she was a slut or something.

Who was she? Norman Bates?

She quickly changed grabbed some toast and was heading for the door when she heard:

"Are you going out?"

"Probably."

"When will you be back?"

"Tonight. Maybe."

"You won't know where the flat is."

"A good walk will do me good. Bye."

"Wait!"

She ran out of the house: safe at last.

*08:10, Suzanne, French Connection*

She at last walked inside to the police department and walked over to her desk and began to type.

"Hey Suzanne the boss wants to see you."

"Angry?"

"Very."

She got up and walked as slowly as possible to Mr Javers' room.

She sat down at a chair before the huge desk.

"Well, well, well Suzanne Miles, I should have known."

_What do you mean you should have known didn't you called for me?_

"I take it you're still writing your paper? What you haven't even started on the others! This is getting old Miles I have much better things to be doing than helping a blind bitch with her deadlines are, you told me you could keep with this paper."

"I just need to figure out the scandal of the phones and then I'll print it. Not before."

"Who the hell do you think you are? A detective? Well let me tell you sister, we are a newspaper company, a NEWSPAPER COMPANY! And not a very good one at that! You are my lowest form of a journalist, and if it sounds good or will sell newspapers then: WRITE IT!"

"Isn't that a little irresponsible?"

"Don't get funny with me! Now shut up and get writing! You have until tomorrow night to finish all of your papers. And they better be good! Or else you're fired, I don't CARE about the publicity or YOU!"

Suzanne walked out rubbing the flecks of spit off of her cheeks. If you haven't guessed it yet: Suzanne wasn't a detective for the French police or another consulting detective in France, she was working as a journalist in a seedy newspaper which only cared about making a fast pound (or euro).

She began typing when something seemed a miss. Where was the creep that would sneak up on her and ask for the hundredth time if she like a coffee with him? John Val Joel. He usually would have cornered her now and asked her out. Again. Maybe he finally took a hint. Even so…

She turned around in her chair to see if her desk buddy Marcie was in a talking mood.

"Excuse me Marcie, but where's the big head from the detective agency, John?"

"…Don't you know…?"

"Know what…?"

"He…He got murdered by the phone thing."

_What? He was just talking to her the day before yesterday. This couldn't be connected to her accident…_

She stood up to go investigating into this further when a familiar voice stopped her:

"MILES! WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR GOING?"

Crap.

She turned to face her tormentor or boss, with a smirk saying:

"I quit."

The enraged man known as the leader of the group gargled on his own spit. He was not happy about this. He got redder and redder and redder. Temples stood out on his skull. And his hands shaking.

"What…you're leaving…YOU HAVE THE GUTS (he didn't say guts but I want to keep this T) TO STAY AND COURSE TROUBLE ON MY COMPANY AND NOW YOU'RE QUITTING!" 

Suzanne decided that this would be a very, very, very, very, very, very good time to leave.

She ran out of the building sure that someone would call the police and she had enough arrests to last her a life time.

*11:00, Suzanne, on the French underground*

She looked straight ahead willing herself not to sleep, for she knew that if she did then she wouldn't know which stop was which. But she had spent so little time sleeping, and so much crying. That her head was beginning to nod.

Nodding…

Nodding…

Nod-…

_She looked around (her dreams didn't work with very much images it worked more with smells and touch with a few memories of items flying around), her dream was more visual than normal. The sky as usual was a faded red, she looked around at the grey building on the first floor, suddenly gasping when she recognised it._

_She could feel the window frame and the cool roof tiles under her red throbbing fingers. Please God no…_

"_Suzanne. Help me!"_

_She could hear Sherlock's voice as he tried to hang onto the roof tiles. She reached her hand down. She couldn't stop screaming. She then heard her brother bashing the cupboard door down. _

(Yeah, if you're a first time reader reading Question Mark: ? might make this dream sequence a lot clearer).

_She reached her hand down her heart beating. She leant out of the window her hand outstretched preying it would find Sherlock's. She at last felt his hand on hers. She didn't hear the door break down._

_She felt herself being pulled back into the widow by Wayne._

_Sherlock called her name one more time before screaming as he lost his grip and fell off of the roof._

_Suzanne stared wide eyed at the sound, she turned to look at her brother who was still holding her. She growled at him, but then his form changed before her eyes (_yes she can see him now)_. She went to slap him, but her hand hit something hard._

_A Mirror?_

_Wayne's shape changed into…_

_Into…_

_Herself?_

_She stared at her own outline in the mirror. The woman smiled at her then pushed her out of the window._

_Suzanne screamed…_

…Suzanne screamed.

Her body flinched waiting for the impact but none came. All she could feel was her seat which was jigging with the train. She looked around breathing hard trying to get her bearings it took only a few minutes to realise she was crying. She blinked hard trying to stop.

That night, still gave her nightmares.

She didn't know why.

Was it because her life had changed so radically?

Or the fact she found out she wasn't the person she thought she was?

"Are you alright love?" asked some middle age block with a moustache next to her.

She nodded through her tears before standing up and getting off of that damn train. She didn't care where she was.

She put her thumb and forefinger onto her right wrist. On the middle of it was a circular scar. The one she had obtained when her brother Wayne had micro chipped her when she had broken into the base to try to save Sherlock.

She sat on a park bench trying to get her composure back again. She (hypothetically) looked at herself, she was middle aged (not getting any younger), still living with her step sister, interested in a man who obviously wasn't in her, no friends, sleeping on a sofa, and trying to solve a crime that wasn't any of her business.

It's a charmed life she is living.

*12: 34pm, Suzanne, the autopsy room*

Suzanne waited her back against the slab where the passed on man was to be put on. She didn't know what she was looking for but there had to be something to give away a clue. She didn't even know why she was still continuing with her investigations; she had been booted off the newspaper (or rather she quitted), she had no one to brag to who actually cared if she did somehow solve this damn case.

She snapped here rubber gloves one last time. She did that whenever she was stressed.

At last Amy (the younger woman who was assigned to help her) walked in with the body bag and the clothes requested. "Here you are detective." (Suzanne happened to take a VIP press pass from Mr Javers office before she quitted).

Suzanne opened the bag pretending she could see the cold one. She took out her tape recorder, put in a fresh tape and asked "How long since time of death?"

"Oh about twelve hours."

"That was fast."

"Their where a lot of witnesses."

"Very good, I will need to see all of their files both ID and criminal if they have one."

She looked up at the still motionless Amy, "what are you waiting for? There are lives at stake!" she cried the over the top card always worked with these office types.

Amy rested her weight from one foot to the other "it's just you don't have the power to tell me what to do."

Suzanne sighed then stood up straight looking straight at her. She switched off her tape recorder before replacing it in her coat pocket. Then she began to clap.

"What? What is it?" asked Amy a little annoyed now.

"Well done miss? Miss?"

"Duron."

"You are the first person in this building to recognise I'm not allowed here."

"…"

Suzanne put her arm around the young woman. "You see" *she flashed a card at the poor girl* "I'm the inspector to this fine establishment, and I'm very impressed with your work too."

"Really?" asked the naïve girl.

Suzanne nodded as she let go of her.

Amy had a broad smile on her face and she was shaking with excitement.

"The files to the witnesses?" Suzanne asked turning her back to the younger woman.

Amy nodded and ran off.

Suzanne's smile fell; she must be getting better at this detective thing. She took out the card she had fooled that fool with. Her hospital card. She shook her head as she turned back to the body.

She ran her hand over the dead body.

Wow she didn't guess she would be putting her hands on this man. Oh the irony.

She smirked to herself before taking out her tape recorder again. She was sick.

She closed her eyes. "Middle aged, married (hay!), forty (bastard you told me you where thirty five), several skull cracks from a massive sound wave pressure, no other broken bones or other damage, clothes in good conditions, pockets empty and seemed to have diabetes."

She stepped back her hands in her pockets; well this didn't tell her anything new. "Victim killed through massive sound wave, exploding ear drum and brain connections, instantly dying." She needed some Tasrikki.

She then remembered he had found a clue. A connection between the murder victims.

She began to search his pockets again her hands trembling.

"Come on John, please let one thing in your career be an ounce like Sherlock."

She even tore off his Italian leather shoes to see if he had stuck a message into it. Nothing.

She went to the boxes full of his stuff looking for a helpful note.

Still nothing.

She had to think of something.

She had been so close.

Just then to put the stupid cheery on the stupid icing on the stupid cake. Amy walked in with the files.

Suzanne held the bridge of her nose as Amy skipped in, obviously still believing she was getting a promotion.

"How are things" said the woman who was on a high.

"Amy, where there any other items you haven't given to me. It is most important." She said grabbing Amy's shoulders.

"Well…apart from his laptop which I have been told not to give you…"

"Perfect! I need it!"

"But…you see…the thing is…"

"*cough*promotion."

"I'll be right back."

~::~

Suzanne put the lap top onto her lap (after asking Amy to put on the commentary option onto the machine). She began to search through it, the machine mumbled and muttered to itself telling her what documents where on John's computer.

Guessing his password was easy.

She looked at every single document. Nothing.

Damn him.

She at last looked at his emails.

One requesting a drink with her,

Another requesting she should like him,

Why she didn't like him,

Brag,

Brag,

Boring,

Boring,

Boring,

Maybe this one,

_Dear Suzy _(sigh)_,_

_Guess what a friend of mine told me that every single one of those people went to the…carnival! And not just any carnival the Paris Carnival!_

_Maybe we can both go together and do some "investigation" as it were. _

_My friend Moriarty told me that as soon as we walk in their we'll see who is doing this._

_Maybe we could go for a drink?_

_Oh and one more thing before I forget very important that you remember to trust No_

No? Who was No? Was it someone's name?

She closed her eyes remembering all of the names she had memorised when she was in the black gang.

Norman?

Noah?

Norbert?

Noreen?

Norris?

Nox?

She rubbed her head. It hurt.

Well at least she had a lead: the Paris Carnival.

She shut the laptop huffily.

"Have you got a phone?" she asked looking Amy.

Bring…

Bring…

Bring…

Bring…

Come on, come on.

"…Hello…" groaned Sophie.

"…Hi Sophie…Its Suzanne…"

"…Hi…"

"…" 'What was up with Sophie?' she thought an eyebrow raised.

'…Oh no! No Sophie please…'

'Please…'

'Please don't tell me…'

"Sophie…Have you arrived at our new flat? Yet?"

"…Yeah *giggle*"

"Are you drunk?"

"…Stoned *giggle*…"

She pressed the bridge of her nose together, groaning.

"Have you…and some random guy just…?"

"…*giggle*…"

"Never mind…I'll take a bus!"

She shook her head, hard. She didn't need those images in her head.

*04:23pm, Suzanne, on a bus*

She fell onto a bus seat exhausted; she had to find a person to give her directions, and then wait for the next bus which took ages.

She missed Black cabs.

She stifled a yawn feeling more tired. She had no idea where she was going and how she was ever going to get home.

She rubbed her eyes, she took out her watch (which had no glass so she could feel where the hands where).

04:38 o'clock.

She slumped down lower.

Tired.

~::~

Suzanne jumped off of the bus: 05:40pm she stretched her back muscles, she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep on that piece of scrap metal. She asked the driver for directions as she snapped her stick together (it broke up so she could carry it in her bag).

~::~

She walked into the carnival entrance.

Core what a dump.

She walked past various acts, dodgy smelling men, people selling stuff she would rather wear than eat, and of course the fortune tents.

She walked around the carnival for an hour waiting for a clue to show itself. She yawned. So boring.

Her hand was suddenly grabbed by an old wrinkly one.

"You have clever hands my dear" said an old crone who was feeling and rubbing her left hand.

"Thank you…I'm very attached to them" she said trying to grab her hand back.

"Did Sherlock like them?"

Suzanne turned her head back looking at the old crone with a raised eyebrow "okay, you've got my attention. What do you want?"

"Let me read your future dolly, let me read your clever seeing eyes."

Suzanne looked around this was the best clue that had walked up to her and presented itself in months.

~::~

Suzanne walked into the warm tent: it had candles, dream candles, scents and herds burning on the walls, also a small bowl of bones where on the side. She looked around the tent her hand falling onto a side cupboard to feel the room. There was a stereotypical round table clothed table with two chairs with a crystal ball in the middle. Also there were a couple of wires and smoke machines around.

Typical.

She turned to the little crone. She was a tiny little old woman in a clock wrapped around her head and plump body. The only thing poking out of the cape was her oversized nose. She was perched on one of the chairs waiting patiently for her to finish her deductions.

Suzanne looked around a small frown on her forehead.

She was very suspicious.

"I'm quite offended. You trust other people a lot more readily. Maybe if I was born male I might be blessed with your ready trust."

Suzanne at last walked over to a chair and sat down. (In her pocket she happened to turn on a certain tape recorder).

"You are not afraid. Many of my other visitors are afraid."

Suzanne leaned forward her head in her hands. "I can see through your tricks and 'magic' it is all smoke screens and mirrors."

"Oh, is that you talking or Sherlock."

She stiffened at the name but then doggedly shook herself refusing to give into her own damn feelings.

"That is the second time you have used that name and I will respond to it as I did first: you have gotten my attention now use it old lady and stop talking in riddles. Impress me."

The woman took her time before at last spitting: "you have been alone all of your life. Your only family is your step sister who is holding your brilliant mind back, a brother that's dead; another brother is a dead man walking who wants to kill you, and your foolish mother with a step father who you are still running away from. You've never had a true friend in your life. And your heart belongs to a man who doesn't care for you."

Suzanne looked down blinking hard bite her lip then looked up defiantly frowning, "you could have found that out through earthly means I want something that you couldn't have found out."

The old woman let out a cackle, then smiled a toothless grin, she then reached out a chubby hand and pressed it onto her forehead. "Why dolly, you're so twisted up inside your emotions are like storms in the night."

She took Suzanne's wrist "You're still full of naïve love…but these lines show you are beginning to doubt your own senses. Even though Sherlock still holds a hand print on your heart you know he will never care for you. Not really. He can kiss you hold you but you know in your heart that when he gets bored of you he will throw you away. Like now. Dolly is sick. Dolly is very, very sick."

Suzanne looked at her then snatched her wrist back.

"Hmmm. That's very interesting."

She let out a cackle before the old crone sat forward suddenly calm. She sat back smugly.

"There now I've impressed you. You're searching out for the phone scandal and I've got two things to say to you."

Suzanne said nothing but she kept her palm firmly on the table to track her every movement.

"The first thing is that you should quit while you're ahead. The person you're up against is more powerful and brilliant than you want to be. His name is:

Moriarty

Learn it and embrace it. That way he may not kill you."

Suzanne looked at her. That name….Where had she heard that name…?

"And the second warning?" she asked looking away.

The woman shared a secret smile to herself, she then put her hand under the table and dug out a pumpkin like object and slapped it hard onto the table.

Suzanne eyes fell onto the object.

Suzanne put her hand slowly onto the object trying to distinguish it.

The old crone let out a toothy laugh.

Something clicked in Suzanne's head. Her hand began to shake hard.

"…Amy…?" she asked her eyes filling with tears.

The woman began to hysterically laugh.

Suzanne's hand shook as she tried to move it away from Amy's hair. She sat back her knees reaching her chin.

Amy…Had been murdered. They had cut off her head. That woman in the hospital that had helped her. The one she had fooled into helping her. She had been murdered because she had helped her.

"Looks like little Amy won't be getting her promotion now…" laughed the old crone hysterically.

Suzanne stood up and ran out of the tent. It was pouring with rain, but she began to run in a direction tripping and bashing into things as she tried to get away to clear her head.

After many stumbling, tripping and bruising she at last managed to find a phone booth. She ran in swinging the door behind her. She held her head. A woman had been killed because she had tried to help her.

She had killed again.

She let herself have a good cry before she wiped her eyes furiously before picking up the phone (that thankfully worked) and searched through the phone book before finding the number of a local cab agency (I've already explained this in Question Mark: ? so I won't here). She will come back tomorrow, with a police agent. Now she was too hysterical and tired.

She ordered a cab before looking at her watch. Damn 10:56 she will have to wake up Sophie. Suzanne called her.

"Hello?"

"Sophie, its Suzanne where do we live?"

"Oh…Listen Suzanne about-"

"Where do we live?"

"Slumber 25 H."

"Thank you" she murmured recording that piece of information.

"Suzanne…"

"What now?"

"I…Well I got a surprise for you when you get back."

Suzanne inner groaned. She was not going to enjoy this.

*11:47, Suzanne, Slumber 25 H*

Suzanne stiffly got out of the cab; trust her new flat to be on the other side of Paris. She paid the driver. The only good thing about that long journey was the fact she had managed to pull herself together.

~::~

She made her way up one stair at a time trying to find the H block. Half way up she collided with a running Sophie.

Who was very hot and sweaty?

Suzanne looked at her up and down a raised eye brow.

"Oh Suzanne where have you been? I've been waiting all day for you!"

"Investigating."

She was not in the mood.

"Well before you enter the flat, there something I need to tell you…"

"What? The guy you got drunk with and then slept with is still there?"

"It wasn't like that exactly."

Suzanne huffed but was too emotionally and physically tired to do anything. Just add that to her to do list for tomorrow. She looked up and held the bridge of her nose. "Where did you meet him?"

"He's the guy next door."

"What about the guy who owns the damn flat?"

"He went on holiday this morning."

Suzanne normally would have followed that lead to the nth degree but she was too tired and she desperately wanted to get this over with.

To speed things up she began to walk up the stairs.

"Where do I sleep?"

"The couch."

"Of course."

"He's really; really nice: he helped me unpack."

"What a catch! You just had sexual intercourse with a guy you barely know but at least he can move pieces of furniture. Your choice in men sometimes astounds me Sophie."

Sophie huffed as she roughly grabbed Suzanne's arm and dragged her towards their new flat.

Suzanne wanted to fall onto the couch but no.

Some other guy (Sophie's fling most likely) was sitting on her spot.

"Suzanne…This is Jim. Jim Moriarty."

Moriarty.

Suzanne immediately awoke as Sophie and the man kissed. She wanted to analyse this specimen but she was immediately hit by her own tiredness.

Jim smirked at Suzanne. So this was Suzanne Miles.

How interesting.

How very, very interesting.

~::~

Hi I'm back! Gosh that felt good! As usual REVIEW! I know the story is a little all over the place right now and this story is a little barren of Sherlock right now but the next chapter I swear to God is the last one without his charm!


	3. Danger Zone

!

THANK YOU TO: ALICExRxH! YOU ARE THE ONLY PERSON TO REVIEW ME…EVER! THANK YOU! YOU'R THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS PRESSED THE REVIEW BOTTON IN **AGES**! ! YOU ROCK!

Chapter Four: Danger Zone

*11:30pm, Suzanne, New Year's Eve*

"Dear Sherlock,

Yes it has been a while since I last 'wrote' you a letter! One month, one week, six days, seven hours, forty minutes and thirty seconds since I last sent you a letter. God I need a life, you know it might help if you sent me a couple of letters back. But now is not the time.

Listen, I found out some more clues to the murders. I think someone is trying to kill me. And don't you dare scoff at that because it's true and you know it. I found out some strange clues, but look: I need to know everything about Moriarty.

* Suzanne lent against the cupboard by the side of her new kitchen she was frowning into space it had been four days and she had yet to return to the carnival. Amy's face came up in the obituaries (much to her distress). She suddenly felt a chill go down her back. She turned her head slightly to check if Sophie's Moriarty wasn't listening*

I…I think I might be in trouble…Look you once explained to me how Moriarty was a mad man and tried to…He sent…He tried to get a cabman to poison you…?

Well a week or so ago my…my flat blew up, hardly scratching me…I think…I think…It could be a warning…and also people lately have been saying his name a lot…and they barely know who he is…

Look I'm scared for Sophie Sherlock…He could be really, really dangerous…"

"I am…"

Suzanne let out a yelp and turned around, Jim walked towards her slowly. He reached her and turned off the tape recorder. Suzanne quickly stuck it into her pocket.

Jim laughed at her shocked expression. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "If you're talking to who I'm think you're talking too-"

"You'll what? Blow me up again?"

Jim was silent for a while. Suzanne began to back away slowly had she said the wrong thing to him? Had she given away her only card that she wasn't completely stupid too soon?

Moriarty suddenly grabbed her and pressed her against the fridge in a chock hold. Suzanne let out a rasping breath her eyes wide.

"Listen here sweet heart" he said not in a threatening way, but in a soft and gentle voice anyone else would think he was talking to her about the weather, "I can wring your neck right now and be done with you."

Suzanne felt her breathe catch in her throat.

"But I've been told to keep you alive."

"By whom?" she managed to chock.

"Oh…*tut tut tut* unlike you…I don't tell who I'm working for. I keep secrets."

Suzanne tried to kick him, but she couldn't tell if she had or hadn't for he never moved or flinched, "And if you…EVER" he managed to spit that word out with fire and sourness behind his cool voice, "try to get back to England or leave this country…I'll make you wish. You. Had. Never. Been. **Born.**"

Suzanne managed to croak out another gasp, he held her even tighter.

Jim smiled letting her go, she immediately fell to her knees holding her throat trying to breathe again normally. "I'm glad we understand each other…"

He smirked and walked away.

Suzanne looked up at him tears in her eyes. She shakily got up pressing her body against the fridge, she was still chocking. When at last she had calmed down, she shakily rewound the tape back to the beginning then took it out of the recorder. She took out an envelope out of her other pocket; she shakily put the tape in and sealed it up.

"Sophie" she managed to rasp as she looked into the only bed room.

Sophie was reading a magazine plugged into her IPod. She at last looked up and gasped at Suzanne's expression.

"What's up?"

Suzanne could feel Jim looking at her from the living room sitting on her sofa.

"Nothing *chock* Nothing" she managed to gasp.

"Oh, right well you have a horrible cold" Sophie said her eyes already back onto the magazine.

Suzanne cleared her throbbing throat one more time; she threw the envelope with the tape inside at Sophie who pretended not to notice.

"You have to write out the address for me *cough, cough*" she managed to rasp her voice going midway.

"Suzanne-"

"I don't need this argument! I need you to write out Sherlock Holmes' and our new address and then I'm having a chat with you about something very important" she didn't care she was shouting. She didn't care that her throat felt like it was on fire. She didn't care she had snapped at her sister. But she did care about Jim sitting forward on the sofa, obviously very, very, very, very interested.

Sophie sighed got out a pen and wrote out the address.

Suzanne took back the envelope and ran her hand over it. But it was a fountain pen so there were no imprints or curbs on the card by the pen. And she felt worried she had smudged it.

*11:56am Suzanne, post box*

Suzanne nervously ran her hand over the address again hoping Sophie knew it was the right one.

She kissed the envelope involuntarily and slotted in into the post box.

She hoped John and Sherlock got this in time.

She then sighed: time to break it to Sophie. She began to walk away.

What she didn't know was the address on that precious envelope read:

Sophie Westwood,

The Unarringa, Flat 30 G, Lily Street,

Leeds

HH566 HJJ78

England

~::~

Suzanne walked into her new flat to be welcomed by Sophie running towards her and wrapping her arms around her neck. Suzanne blinked where was this coming from? She felt Sophie crying, her eyes widened, what had Moriarty done to her?

She held Sophie back looking at her up and down she didn't seem hurt. "Sophie, what has he done to you? Are you hurt? Tell me, tell me quick!"

"Jim's…*sob*…"

"Tell me! We need to get the police here! Maybe they can arrest him too…"

"Jim's proposed to me!"

"…"

Sophie held up her hand which had to have had a ring on. Suzanne blinked at the news…Moriarty had proposed…to Sophie? He was clever he was very clever…

Jim walked into the room smiling "isn't this wonderful! Sophie and I are going back to her flat in Leeds tonight."

Suzanne stood there stunned.

"I…I need to go too…"

"No, no, you can't" they both said together, Jim and Sophie looked at each other then laughed.

Suzanne looked at them her heart took a pang of fear. What was Moriarty going to do to Sophie?

*01:48pm, Suzanne, watching Sophie's room*

Suzanne watched as Sophie packed up her suit case of belongings, she sat there in a nervous silence twiddling her thumbs.

"You can't go" she whispered at last.

"Oh Suzanne stop it!" snapped Sophie, "can't you let me have one night of happiness."

"But…Listen Sophie what I meant to tell you earlier…Jim he…He put me in a chock hold a few hours ago…he…he doesn't want me going back to England."

"Oh my God…"whispered Sophie staring at her, "you're that selfish you would lie to my face just because you can't bear me being happy?"

"No! Look" Suzanne raised her head to show bright red finger marks that was on her neck.

"You…You selfish bitch!"

"WHAT!"

"Everything has gotta be about YOU DOESN'T IT!"

"Sophie I'm not lying and he is not the man you think he is! He is Jim Moriarty a wanted criminal: a consulting criminal is memory serves! He could really hurt you!"

"Get out."

"No! not until you listen. THINK ABOUT IT Sophie! A guy you barely know, happens to live next door when flat mate magically leaves within a moment's notice, you and him have sex before you even know what his second name is. Then five days on he propose to you within a moment's notice after I look like I've been through hell: IT MAKES SENSE!"

"NO! What makes sense is that YOU can't bear to see anyone happy! Because YOU had to throw your life away, because YOU got scared of your own feelings. Or rather you got scared you actually felt something. YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE WHO WOULD WANT YOU! YOU ARE A BLEEDING PSYCHO! HOLDING AND SNIFFING a scarf like it was a brand of crystal meth! YOU'RE SICK NO WONDER SHERLOCK JUMPED OUT OF A WINDOW TO GET AWAY FROM YOU!" Sophie roared back with fire and brimstone.

"Oh, Don't you DARE bring HIM into this!"

"Oh so it's alright for you to have a boyfriend but when I get on it's a TOTALLY DIFERENT story!"

"Yes because Sherlock wasn't a killer!"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

"At least let me come with you!"

"OH NO! I'm NOT letting YOU ruin everything like you ALWAYS DO!"

"You can DO THAT YOURSELF! HE'LL KILL YOU! MARK my words SISTER he will kill you to get to me! HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU!"

Sophie slapped Suzanne. Hard.

Suzanne's head snapped back holding her throbbing cheek. She blinked hard.

Sophie was standing stiffly her harsh breath breathing through her gritted teeth.

She quickly grabbed her bag and ran out of the room.

"Jim! We're leaving…NOW!"

"What! Darling the train won't leave until seven tonight what's the hold up?"

"Nothing…Lets go Jim to our new life…Together….now…"

They had a long kiss. Suzanne stood in the doorway looking at the two. A tear running down her face.

Sophie turned and looked at her; she opened her mouth then closed it. And walked away.

The two walked out the door, shutting it behind them.

*06:32pm, Suzanne, on the couch*

Suzanne shut her lap top. Well it hadn't been easy. She had managed to sell the flat to a bargain price, taken to her bank account and had managed to spend every penny getting train tickets back to England that where not the seven o'clock train. She flipped it down and put it among her packed bags.

She had three hours until she had to leave. Better sleep.

She curled up on the couch and closed her eyes.

~::~

She didn't hear the front door click open.

She didn't hear the slow footsteps walking to the back of the sofa.

She did however feel her throat being grabbed in the familiar chock hold.

She did feel the natural squeeze from around her neck it brought with it.

She struggled suddenly wide awake, she tried to sit up but a hand was anchoring her to the starchy sofa.

"You just don't give up don't you I now know why Sherlock was so attached to you."

Suzanne struggled some more.

"Listen this is your final warning: if you even step a foot off of that train, I'll make sure personally you squeak your last squeak mousey."

Suzanne bit her tongue and forced herself not to show weakness towards him. She tensed her muscles and closed her eyes so she could concentrate on feeling cool/

"Oh…and by the by" he whispered his voice so close it stung her eyes "don't you look in your wardrobe…"

Suzanne looked up and him sweat going down her forehead.

Jim smirked at her then bent down and pressed one kiss onto her cheek. Suzanne gasped involuntarily.

Jim let out a laugh and then left.

~::~

Suzanne waited her heart banging in her ears. She strained her ears to pick up the sound of him closing the door, but there came none. She was that frightened.

She at last shakily and slowly sat up, her palms flat on the ground. A trickle of sweat went down her forehead.

At last even slower she stood up and walked around the flat. Every time she came into a new room she stopped her heart banging but Moriarty was not hiding in the shadows waiting to grab her.

She collapsed on the sofa after having a tour of her three rooms flat her hands shakily running through her long straight hair. She looked at the cupboard.

She hadn't thought to open it.

She stood.

She walked over to it.

She reached out a hand and (tightly) gripped the door knob.

She turned it.

It creaked open.

Suddenly four thumps echoed through the house she screamed and screamed her hand over her mouth. Tears ran down her face she was so shocked.

It was only after her five minutes of battling to retrieve her (almost) calm composure. When the smell hit her.

The smell of decaying flesh.

No. Please God no.

She bent down shakily to one knee holding her nose. The objects weren't very big…Like pumpkins…

She ran to the bathroom to throw up.

For on the floor was four severed heads.

She shakily walked back into the room holding her gut. She stood in the door way her eyes for once locked onto a pacific place.

One head was male. Judging by his cheek bones and what was left of his Adam's apple. She had never seen or known him, could this unfortunate be Matt the person who offered to take them into his flat.

The other three she knew. They were once Sophie's friends. They were the ones who had patronised her because of her blindness…

She sniffed her composure suddenly gone.

Why were these people dying?

Because of her?

Yes.

She had come and tried to be the big I am but it had all back fired.

She was left standing.

No one else with her.

No one else left.

She blinked tears pouring down her face. She scooped up her bag and ran out the door forgetting her key.

She needed to just fall into someone else's arms.

She needed someone who wouldn't run away.

John, Sherlock?

She smiled at the memory of John, every body's conscience and enough heart to go around. Though no push over too. She could sit on the couch and pour her heart out to him and be reassured that after she had finished she would get an answer: the straight answer.

And Sherlock? She felt a knot tightening in her stomach as she thought about him. Would he welcome her back? Would he just slam the door in her face?

John wouldn't.

But the thought of having to having to play cat and mouse play the game you must play with Sherlock wore her out already.

She looked down at her wrist. The scar from the microchip had to be still visible. She felt her tears fall onto the scar. Sherlock had fished it out so gently too. He had cared about her then…He must of in his way…And she needed her friends around her now.

She clasped her hand into a fist as she closed her eyes as a slight shower of rain fell onto her face…

~::~

It took her two bus rides a two hour walk around in circles, and one last taxi ride to get her to the train. Her train waited in the station patiently waiting for her…

She walked onto the train her head suddenly light from remembering the last time she had been on a train.

She reached into her pocket and took out the scarf and sniffed it.

No scent left.

She sighed frustrated she nearly needed a boost of confidence.

Hopefully Jim was too busy playing happy families with Sophie to realise she was coming. Any other day and she knew he'd know she was coming. This was her only shot.

A long one.

She had one last thing to do…So if she didn't make it…She could do one last good deed.

She set to work.

*11:55pm New Year's Eve, Suzanne, The Train*

She remembered very little about the journey, as she walked off of the train the only thing she remembered after her task was her crying and sleeping, then crying and sleeping some more. The only thing that made an ounce of difference to her train journey was that a party of men and women went into her carriage obviously too celebrate the New Year.

They popped some party poppers and drank some alcohol beverage but did nothing else but burp and sing age old songs that Phil Collins would have thought too much.

She shook her head and tightened her jacket that was already tightly around her and still flapping in the wind.

There wasn't many in the train apart from the party and five business people eager to go home to their families there was very little. And too soon the train left and she was the last one on the station.

She didn't like it.

There was no shelter.

And she felt like she was being…watched?

A shiver went down her spine.

She walked towards the nearest exit; she felt the cool shade from the roof cover her from the roof.

3 minutes to midnight.

Footsteps rang out through the darkness.

2 ½ minutes to go.

Jim Moriarty's laugh echoed through the darkness. Suzanne tensed.

2 minutes to go.

She ran not caring anymore she might bump into a wall or fall down some stairs.

1 ½ minutes to go.

"I knew you couldn't resist coming back here…Now the scarf…"

Suzanne's hands tightened on the scarf in her pocket. No.

60 seconds to go.

She tried to run again but this time was grabbed and pressed against one of the station's pillars.

"We've got to stop meeting like this" he murmured his hand going into her pocket and wrenching out Sherlock's scarf.

30 seconds to go.

She felt a sudden prick in her left shoulder. A syringe? What the-?

10 seconds.

She grabbed her head. She was suddenly light headed.

5 seconds.

She fell to the ground her breathing ragged, trying to stay awake.

4.

Jim Moriarty laughed in the background looking at his handy work. He was suddenly joined by some more laughter. A laugh to a voice Suzanne had never heard before it was…a woman? What was going on?

3.

"John" she managed to slur battling with herself to stay awake if she could just…just…stay…awake.

2.

"Sherlock" she slurred quieter now.

1.

"Help…me…"

0.

She blacked out.

Suzanne's New Year…Had arrived…

~::~

Somebody please review. DX

I know this is a crap plot, Crap original character and characterisation, No Sherlock (yet), A sequel to a crap plot and story,

BUT PLEASE REVIEW EVEN IF IT IS TO TELL ME I SUCK! DX I cannot bear another chapter with no reviews…

DX I know you're busy, and this story is really, really, really, really, really, really, really awful but…I just end up being sad and crying at the end of a chapter because no one has reviewed me…

Please press that button below…

Pretty please…

…With sugar…


	4. Cold One

!

A huge, Huge, HUGE thank you to the people who managed to review my last chapter: HockeyandMusic, SammyFan4Life, Terrorist Of The Seven Seas, and (of course) ALICExRxH! YOU ALL ROCK!

Chapter Four (yeah I know I missed out Three in the last chapter): Cold One

Recording starting…In…3…2…1…*BEEP*

_Ring…Ring…Ring…Ring…_

_Beep…_

"…_Hello this is Sophie?"_

"_Hey sis! It's me!"_

"_Suzanne! Oh My God! How are you? You haven't called in a while!"_

"_Well I've been working on a case here in Paris…Talk about the French connection! Who had thought they think murder is an art here! Well how have you been?"_

"_Well LONELY! And it's all YOUR FAULT! Hah just kidding! I've been great I'm finally used to living with Jim! He's such a gentleman! He's out on a business trip to America so we are for now separated…But that leaves some sexual tension if you know what I mean…"_

"…_That's good to hear…Actually I'm thinking of returning to Britain…But before I do…"_

"_I know…I know you want me to post something to…*swoon* Sherlock…"_

"_Shut up I don't sound like that when I talk about him!...Anyway he hasn't replied to any of my tapes…Not one…"_

"_*sigh* well what do you want me to send?"_

"_Actually It's not a tape…It's a scarf…"_

"_A scarf? Oh this couldn't be…THE scarf? I'm not worthy!"_

"_Shut Up! There's still a lot of buzz about what happened a year ago and well…"_

"_I gotcha. So when will I be expecting this…Treasure…This gem in scarf form."_

"_You're really pushing it Sophie…"_

"_Now, now you know I'm only teasing…Oh when you're back you've got to come to this Italian restaurant…Best grub in Leeds!"_

"_Um…Actually I'm thinking of going straight to London…"_

"_*Sigh* look Suzanne he doesn't care about you if he did then he'd well, at least reply or visit…"_

"_You're right…Okay! I'll head straight to Leeds when I get off that train."_

"_Okay I'll see you soon; I'll make the couch comfy for you…"_

"_Yep…I'll see you soon…"_

_*BEEP *_

"_Now Miss Miles I'll take what's mine…The scarf?"_

"_Sorry but you're not getting anything off me…"_

"_Miss Suzanne Miles you are indeed a horrible liar…Isn't your coat pocket what has swallowed the famous scarf…"_

"_Why…Why do you want it?"_

"_You are unfamiliar of my background…It is my job to find Information. Gathering secrets, lies and consulting criminals are all in my job description."_

"_I-I should have been more careful…"_

"_Hoh, ho you're right about that…! My dear Miss Miles but I'm afraid you won't be returning to England…I will need one last thing from you…_

_Your silence."_

"_!"_

…

_SCREAM!_

_Thwack!_

"_Mo-or-i-_ _ar-ty_

*Message recorded on 5th March 2011, Euro Star Train carriage three*

*07:10am March 21st, John Watson, London Street*

John Watson smiled to himself as he walked towards 221 B Baker Street his smile shone from his face like he had plugged in a new light bulb.

Last night he had proposed to Sarah. And she had accepted him. They had spent the rest of the night planning the rest of their lives together and then sleeping in each other's arms.

Now came the difficult part:

Asking Sherlock to be his best man.

He prayed Sherlock would at least consider before turning him down.

He walked into the darkened flat, Mrs Hudson walked out of her room and said good morning and asked him why he was so happy?

John smiled his contented smile and told her in a whispering voice.

Mrs Hudson promptly squealed and took him into her room for a cup of tea and talked to him about the joys of marriage.

John didn't mind. Fact he quite liked it. Call him petty and cowardly but it put off the impossible task. At last John walked up the steps two at a time and walked into the darkened flat.

*08:45, John, 221B Baker Street*

John flipped the switch on the old light clicked then buzzed into life. He didn't hear that damn instrument as he walked up the stairs but that was normal now: Sherlock rarely touched the blasted thing unless there was a case that caught his eye and was very difficult.

But they were few and far between.

Getting fewer…

And fewer…

And fewer…

*sigh*

Poor Sherlock he was always on a loose end now. Nothing to do, no cases to solve. He wouldn't be around for much longer. And unnamed was certainly not going to help him. He sighed as he walked into the flat's hall.

He just wished he could help the…

WHAT THE HELL!

"WHAT THE HELL!" John shouted as he stared at the scene.

Sherlock was swinging out of the window with a rope around his waist. He couldn't seem to get his footing for he kept swinging wildly.

John immediately ran to the window and pulled the mad detective back inside.

Sherlock Holmes. He was just as brilliant as ever, his mind though starved of challenges was functioning correctly and could still tell a minor had been drinking from the state of his shoes and if a woman had children form her position of scarf. He today had actually bothered to dress and was wearing his dark purple/blue shirt (the sleeves rolled up) and his black trousers. The rope was secured around his waist and not his neck as first fear.

John slapped the detective. Hard.

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING! AND IF YOU SAY BORED THEN I'LL PUSH YOU OUT THE WINDOW!" he shrieked at Sherlock.

Sherlock straightened his top; he smirked at John's sweaty face as he untied himself from his ropes and redid his sleeves cuffs, deliberately taking his time until grabbing his jacket and walking to his bed room he whispered almost flirtatiously:

"I. Was. Bored."

Until disappearing into his room.

John growled as he stared over the room wide eyed. This was not bored.

Bored was when someone did useless things like: taking up cross stitching, writing stories on the internet, or watching the Jeremy Kyle show. Being bored did not give you an excuse to hang one's self out of a bloody three floored building.

John growled again, Sherlock had made a Mess. Again. It was not a thing now it was a person that shared their flat: Mess. It was on their table, chairs, fridge, window, television, book case, side board, bathroom, bedrooms (Sherlock's), kitchen, laptop, coffee table, and stairs and on it went.

He didn't know why he bothered cleaning (as he began to loop up the rope into his arm). He really didn't. As soon as he walked out of that door, or turned to the right for a second or-never mind even if he BLINKED, Sherlock would begin to some weird, dangerous, pointless, overcomplicated, disturbing, and MESSY experiment that would end up with a hole in John's wallet and the roof.

John finished his inner rant to himself wondering why he had come back but then he remembered.

Oh. Oh, yes…

…

He prolonged himself (because he was a coward), by hovering, cleaning, ordering objects, and setting the washing until everything was sparkling.

Sherlock (right on que) walked out of his room his coat on, and began to briskly walk to the door. John gulped: now or never.

"Um…Sherlock…"

Sherlock kept walking.

"Sherlock I need to talk to you."

Sherlock stopped sighing, "can't it wait John?"

"…No…No it can't wait…Sit down Sherlock…"

"What's the bad news…?"

"It's not bad news."

"Yes it is"

"It's actually good news."

"For you. So then it's bad news for me…You're getting married."

"…Yes…NO!...maybe…"

"Sarah."

"Who says I'm getting married?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John before getting up. John sighed this wasn't going well but now or never.

"…Will you be my best man?"

Sherlock scoffed.

"Please."

"Err…No."

"Sherlock it would mean a lot to me and-"

"What? John I don't believe in marriage or love itself, so do think it will be funny or psychotic that I'll be in such a ceremony. I pick the latter."

"What is your problem? I'm getting married and suddenly it swings to you and your problems, and I need your…your seal of approval to marry the woman I love." John shouted at Sherlock.

"Five months John. Five months. That's all it takes before you both fall out of love and both grow SICK of each other!" Sherlock shouted back.

"And, and you would know? Do you? Because, Sherlock, I think you have never given yourself the chance to feel for anyone besides yourself."

"Oh, oh DON'T bring THIS conversation into the mix I don't think the walls can take another shouting match!"

Mrs Hudson knocked on the door.

They both ignored her.

"You're nothing but a cold, cold, Cold, COLD old fish that can't take me having a real stab at life."

"You HYPOCRITE! In less than a YEAR I'll have to put the pieces together and pick you up like always!"

"Me being a hypocrite? Oh, no, no YOU'RE the one being the HYPOCRITE! I was the one who picked up the pieces for YOU last year, I was YOUR ROCK!"

"My bloody HERO!"

"Shut Up!"

"PUSHY!"

"LAZY!" 

"IDIOT!" 

"GOOD FOR NOTHING!"

"**WHY CAN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME!"** They both yelled together jerking a thumb to their chests.

Mrs Hudson knocked on the door again blinking.

"Another thing SHERLOCK if that is you REAL name-"

"Excuse me boys" she mumbled.

"What are you trying to be the big man JOHN?-"

"*ahem* boys we have…"

"I swear to GOD Sherlock, just one more WORD out of you and I'll-"

"Boys we have-"

"What like this? And this, oh what are you going to do about this one?"

"Right Holmes you asked for it-"

"BOYS!"

"MRS HUDSON!" shouted Sherlock to her, red eyed.

"…We…we have a visitor…"

The two men looked at each other through slights of their eyes, before turning away.

"A woman has come asking to see you Sherlock…"

John looked at Sherlock questionly, "Sarah?"

"Um…No dear, this woman is not Sarah, I'll send her up, and she seems to be in quite a state."

Sherlock had a question mark on his lips as he waited for the woman to appear.

The woman had blond hair, tied up into a pony tail that had been arranged into a bun, she wore a black rain coat and her infamous black rain coat. Her cheeks were a stained pink with her eyes because of her obvious crying.

Sophie.

The two men stared at her. Sherlock turned his head, a little shadowing his eyes with his hair. A pool of memories both flooded the men.

Sophie looked around almost huffily and…angrily?

She went to the bathroom and opened the door looked around. Then she closed the door and moved onto the cupboard. Which she opened and looked around.

John stared at her. What was she looking for?

Sherlock looked up at her a suspicious frowned lined his forehead.

"What is it" he snapped still in a mood.

Sophie turned to him vengeance in her eyes, she boldly walked over to him and slapped him. Hard.

"You awful man. Keeping something like this from me! Now where is she?"

Sherlock held his cheek looking up at her. He felt suddenly scared his heart began to beat. Hard.

John blinked. Not again.

Not again.

Please God. Not again.

"Where's who?" he asked for Sherlock.

"SUZANNE OF COURSE!"

Oh…No…

*flash back two months ago*

"_Do know what will happen to you Sherlock? If you don't stop prying do you know what will happen to you especially?"_

"_Oh let me guess I get killed…"_

"…_Kill you?...No don't be obvious I mean I will kill you one day, no if you don't stop preaching….I'll burn you…I'll burn the HEART out of you."_

"_I've been often told I don't have a heart…"_

"_Now we all know that's not true…Suzanne was her name right? She used to be my favourite prisoner…she was convinced you'd come on your white horse and rescue her…but you never did and she soon gave up hope."_

_John gasped holding a hand over his mouth: shocked. Moriarty laughed at his and Sherlock's reaction. He then dug something out of his pocket and threw it to Sherlock: his old blue woollen scarf._

_Sherlock's hands slowly lowered his gun with shaking hands. He blinked hard: Suzanne was alive? His fists suddenly clenched as he lost his patience and his composure, he picked up Moriarty by his tie in a chock hold and managed to gasp:_

"_Wh-er-e is she? Where is Suzanne?"_

_Jim Moriarty was silently smiling to himself._

"_ANSWER ME!" shouted Sherlock; all of his rage was going to come out now all of his guilt all of his ANGER was going to be inflicted upon Moriarty._

_John saw this. He also saw about fifty red dots surround Sherlock's body._

"_Sherlock!" he shouted obviously afraid for his friend's safety and life, "he's trying to get to you. Let it go."_

_Sherlock looked at Moriarty. Any other man would have been frozen with fear, but not cold Sherlock, he only felt the rage boiling up in his chest that his rival had managed to get him like this._

_At last he let go of the slim ball, and pounded the wall hard with his fist._

_John had never seen a man (let alone Sherlock) so ANGRY, Sherlock had lost his cool composure in a matter of seconds. After a name._

_Moriarty smiled and walked to the door._

"_Catch you…Later" snarled Sherlock through gritted teeth._

"…_No you won't" smiled Moriarty._

"_I'll make sure…You…Won't" he snarled before he left. For Good._

_The door swinging behind him._

**(A/N I know, I know, Moriarty and Sherlock had that big staring competition that was so cool and left on a CLIFFHANGER no less. But I'll be frank I have NO CLUE how they get out of that, and I don't think it will do my and the original story (or you) credit if I embarrass myself trying to guess how. But if any one has any strong feelings I should stay true to the series (yeah I've been doing that alright^^) just tell me. But as I've said there isn't much I can write also I don't really want to spoil the real writer's work.)**

*Flash back to the future (feeling sick yet?)*

Sherlock and John both stared at Sophie.

She suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth.

"What do you mean?" asked Sherlock slowly.

"Nothing I…I meant nothing, honest."

"What did you mean?" asked Sherlock a little louder.

Sophie tried to run to the exit, but John grabbed her and shut the door. "No we want answers" he said pushing her to a sofa.

"This is harassment" she snapped at John and Sherlock new tears going down her face, "I'll tell the police on you!"

"Oh, shut up and for God's sake get a grip" snapped Sherlock staring daggers at her.

Sophie gulped her tears pursing her rouge lips.

"What do you mean…Why do you think Suzanne's here?"

"And if you dare lie then I will not think TWICE before handing you over to the police for wasting our time."

"Thank you Sherlock I think I can take it from here."

Sherlock growled leaning against the wall and John heard a couple of words like: "...no idea…lover boy thinks….bitch…"

John shook his head and turned to her; "Why do you think Suzanne's here?"

"I…I'm…Sick…"

Sherlock scoffed "damn right" he murmured.

"You can't be telling the truth" murmured John soothingly "now, what is the real reason?"

"She…She has…to be….here…are you sure she didn't stay the night…?"

"Didn't she die?" asked John leaning towards the option this woman might well be sick.

Sophie let out a wail, covering her eyes. "She…She didn't…die."

Sherlock stood straighter his jaw tightening.

"…as such" she murmured on.

"What do you mean?" asked Sherlock looking straight ahead.

Sophie sighed she tried to get up. John silently put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her down again.

"What do you mean" asked Sherlock irritated.

"I…mean…she is alive."

Sherlock turned to her his head snapping his eyes wide.

John tried not to gasp.

Sherlock took a tearful step forward but John put a hand on him to keep him away.

John turned to her "why do you say she is alive."

"Because she is. She went off to live in France with me last year a week or so after she died, she stayed until early March this year and then she disappears off of the face of the earth without a word or chat, in London. I feared she might have come here."

Sherlock sat forward "Fear? What do you mean feared?"

Sophie gulped, a few tears going down her face, "she really hasn't come here has she? Seeking answers. I wondered why you let me in so easily."

She began to cry louder.

Sherlock impatiently tried to get to her but John stood up in front of him.

"Let me pass."

"No you are emotionally tried."

"What's that your doctor's analysis?"

"We have a job to do and fighting with her won't help. She might clam up altogether. No let me handle it."

Sherlock growled again but walked to a chair and sat down his strong eyes looking at her judging her every movement.

Only one thing made his heart

leap?

flutter?

stop?

Beat was he could one thing easily. You'd have to be blind to miss it.

…

Was that Sophie was telling the truth.

100% of the bloody truth.

Damn.

Suzanne was alive?

He looked away.

The bitch was alive.

…


	5. The Woman In Black

!

THANK YOU Terrorist Of The Seven Seas! YOU ROCK !

Chapter Five: The Woman In Black

*10:46am Sophie, Sherlock and John, 221B Baker Street*

Sherlock frowned at Sophie. She was still sniffing to herself still hysterical about her outburst about the truth, and that her step sister really hadn't stayed and hid with the two men.

John put his right palm through his hair trying to grasp the fact that this morning when he had awoken Suzanne had been dead but now she was alive. "I…I don't understand….Why hadn't she called us or…told us? If she thought of us so little then why would she have stayed with us?"

Sherlock looked away shaking his head, his chest aching more and more with each new frightened beat; he smirked at the notion that John still hadn't grasped the obvious that Sophie Westwood was telling the truth.

Sophie sniffed and gulped, her peach lips pursed together, she busied herself with retying her lip yellow hair into its bun, as she considered if it would be wise to just leave.

"She…I…It's hard to explain."

"Try me" snapped Sherlock sitting forward.

Mrs Hudson knocked on the door obviously earwigging and offering tea, "Would any of you-" she began.

"No we wouldn't Mrs Hudson. Thank you Mrs Hudson. Goodbye" Sherlock said calmly but quickly his eyes never leaving the tearful Sophie.

Sophie stared at the woman as she back to the door and then closed her eyes. "Her phone got broken in an explosion on Christmas day."

Sherlock snapped his head to her direction remembering all too well that Christmas when he had gotten a phone call from Suzanne's phone…

Had it been from her?

It must have been.

He leant forward covering his eyes his mind working way too fast.

"An explosion…by whom?"

"I…I don't know. She had theories of who it could be but…But I didn't listen to her…"

"Why?" Sherlock snapped finally finding his voice again.

"She…She…Made assumptions about…About my boyfriend…"

"Assumptions?"

"Yes she was jealous and she was missing you two."

Sherlock scoffed and lent back in his chair. He felt no sympathy for Miles. She had brought this on herself, she had ran away from him, played him like a fool, touched his heart…made him feel something…Could have called anytime! Come back anytime! Written to him anytime! And she MISSED HIM. THE NERVE!

"Sherlock….John…Look she…Thought you…knew…"

"Knew?"

"Knew she was alive? How? she hadn't told us…" John mumbled.

"Well she sent a letter…We both assumed you got it…"

"Well we didn't."

Sherlock looked at her. Something didn't add up.

"Lair."

"…What?"

"You're LYING! Suzanne wouldn't give just ONE letter then shut up. Not if she missed us as much as you have said. You're not TELLING US SOMETHING! what aren't you're telling us? And I make myself one hundred per cent clear Miss Westwood. And I mean Miss VERY lightly. Tell me the truth or else I'll make sure personally your boyfriend doesn't see you past a strait jacket ever again."

Sophie stared at Sherlock her eyes wide with shock and fear at the man standing in front of her. She gulped again like a fish.

John stood in front of the detective as a barrier but Sherlock pushed him away with such force that John fell back on the sofa again. John stood up again and forcefully took Sherlock's arms and pinned it behind his body.

Sophie stared at the two men the last few hours had been so violent she had become emotionally drained. She held her head in her hands did three last sobs into them.

She had nowhere else to turn. The man knew she was lying, who knows what he'll do to her. Suzanne wasn't here and probably missing. She could be in REAL danger. Sherlock could find her…She had heard enough times about Sherlock's abilities from Suzanne….

She looked away, biting her lip. She didn't have a choice anymore. No point lying and running anymore.

She went to her enormous leather bag. She held out a small TopShop bag, she opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. She put the bag onto the coffee table in the middle of the room.

Sherlock picked it up.

He opened it to see millions of opened and unopened letters and parcels. And millions of tiny little tapes.

For him?

From…Her?

He felt sick.

He looked away breathing hard. Shock was suddenly replaced by anger. He tried to run to Sophie but he was once again held back by John.

"What are they?" John asked simple minded as usually.

"Tapes. For Sherlock. And you. I sent them to my English apartment." Sophie said no longer looking at the two men, "I didn't want her getting hurt by you Sherlock anymore. And Jim and I-"

"Jim? Jim who" Sherlock asked his head suddenly snapping.

"Jim…My fiancé, he's away in America now for two months…He and Suzanne haven't got on but-"

Sherlock didn't hear anymore he felt a tremble go down his spine involuntarily as he imagined Suzanne in the same room as his arch rival.

"…And well long story short she started off some stupid story that Jim had assaulted her-"

"And you didn't believe her" Sherlock whispered his face far away.

"Well…No…Look I know what this looks like but she CALLED me a few weeks ago so she must of forgiven or finally warmed up to-"

"You said her phone had broken in an explosion."

Sophie stared ahead; a trickle of sweat went down her forehead. "I…I…I didn't think of that…" She held her eyes. She then sighed.

Here goes.

"I…I made sure you two didn't see each other again…"

She waited for a response but none came and because she was too much of a coward she didn't remove her hand from her eyes.

"On the day she left she recorded a confession a message to you Sherlock. I destroyed t. I…My sister was in a state she couldn't run after you and love you when you didn't even look at her twice. So I destroyed it and cut off all contact from her to you…And I waited for her to give up…but she never did and now she's missing…" She let out a sob and began to cry again.

John blinked shocked, he let go of Sherlock's arm. Sherlock stared at her too shocked to move…Suzanne wanted to…Be with him…

Sherlock wasn't dropping the Jim thing that easily, "Jim who?" he asked quietly looking away.

"It wasn't Jim's idea he just-"

"JIM WHO?" he said a little louder.

"Jim…Moriarty…"

John sat down holding his head in his right hand.

Suzanne the bling woman who had saved his best friends could be up against Jim…Moriarty, the psycho who had nearly shot them up with millions of gun men because he was bored? He felt sick…She could barely cross a street on her own let alone go up against Jim Moriarty…

Sherlock didn't know what he was feeling most…

Anger…?

Shock…?

Rage…?

Fear…?

Love…?

He held his head. Too many emotions at once…

Sophie walked to the two men with an almost raised eyebrow: what was wrong?

Sherlock walked up to her tearfully.

He then quick as lightening slapped her. Hard. (SethCohenRocks-2009 that was for you).

Sophie grabbed her cheek her eyes filled with tears again.

"Get out of my apartment…if I EVER see your sorry face here again…it will be too early…" Sherlock's voice came from his gritted teeth, his jaw and fists clenched.

Sophie stood there, but John took her arm and began to lead her to the front door.

"I NEED YOU TO FIND HER! SHE WAS ON THE EURO TRAIN 3 TWO WEEKS AGO!" she screamed trying to catch Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock looked away. Not giving her the satisfaction.

*11:01am, John and Sophie, door way*

John pushed her out of the door. Sophie all the time struggling.

"I think it is within your best interest to leave now. Thank you" John murmured almost bitterly.

"Please…I'll need to tell the police about her disappearance and start a search party. You are welcomed to join."

"We do our own thing" John said still angry about the woman's lies and her introducing Suzanne to Moriarty.

Sophie sighed and took out a small bag of things with evidence written on it.

Then she turned around and walked away.

*11:05am, John and Sherlock, 221B apartment*

John walked into the room where Sherlock stood. He was leaning by the window, not looking at the street or sky like he usually did. He was looking into the space of the distance.

John cleared his throat "what do we do now?"

"We let Sophie and Suzanne rot. How could she?"

"How can you let her go?"

"You just don't know."

"Maybe I'll see why when you stop trying to escape your pain. At least now if you try Suzanne might not die."

"John, she did die."

"Are you insane? You get a second chance. What many other people consider a God's gift."

"Suzanne's got her problems."

"So do you."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

"A friend."

"Huh!"

"But who Sherlock are you? Sherlock's got his work. They say Sherlock lives for his work. And Sherlock's in love with his wok. Sherlock hides in his work."

"From what?"

"From facing your loneliness, facing the fact you live a lie. YES YOU LIVE A LIE. And I'll tell you why: you are preaching not be numb. But that's how you thrive! You pretend to observe and deduct but in fact you detach from life itself!"

"Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us TO SURVIVE!"

John frowned at him then threw the bag of evidence to Sherlock, scooped up his jacket and made for the door.

"Where are you going?" snapped Sherlock.

"Out! I need some air" he made to the front door and slammed it shut then he opened it again and shouted "DON'T DO ANYTHNG STUPID SHERLOCK!"

John slammed the door one more time then left.

Sherlock growled to himself and sat down holding his head.

He sat there in silence to his thoughts for two hours.

He then reached for the side board and picked up her picture. He looked down at it. Could she still be alive?

He knew she could.

Suzanne was like a coach roach in a nuclear war in the best of times. It was difficult to destroy her.

He remembered that night and how she had fallen backwards then slide down a roof…that was all an act…Why?

He ripped the picture in two.

He then threw it away.

He regretted it immediately.

He walked into his room and lay on the bed.

It was something to do.

He remembered something. He scooped under his bed and fished out his scarf.

Had she had this all along?

He put it around his neck. He felt something dig into his neck.

He unravelled the piece of wool and looked at the lump. Something was stitched into the material. He carefully got out some scissors and cut onto the material.

He fished his fingers in and took out…

A tiny rectangular tape.

One of her tapes.

His hands trembled; he looked around for a tape player.

But he had none for this tape.

It was too small.

Damn it!

He ran to the bag of tapes but no tape recorder.

He'd have to buy one.

He went to John's wallet to see if he had any cash.

He then dug into his own pockets to see if he had a five pound note or two. Nothing.

He looked at the bag of evidence that John had thrown at him.

Inside was a cut out of the SUN newspaper (typical), a pen, a snippet of green material with a slash of blood, a note (read that later), and a black tape recorder with a brail sticker slapped on the back.

Bingo! (I'm pretty sure Sherlock doesn't think BINGO, but you know what I mean ^^)

He ran back to his room and put the tape into the recorder, rewound it to the start then pressed: Play

The tape jumped and crackled as it pulled itself together. It had been through a lot.

But at last Suzanne's almost sad voice ran out clear as anything:

"_I'd thought you'd figure it out._

_I knew you would._

_Now listen up Sherlock!_

_You better have a damn good reason why you haven't responded to any of my letters._

_Ok!_

*sound of people shouting and singing rang out*

_*sigh* enough about that. I know what you think…_

_Now I am coming back to London to find you…And that creepy slime ball Moriarty might be waiting for me…_

…

_If you get this than that means I'll…_

…

_BUT, if you rise to him and get yourself into trouble because of me…I SWEAR I'll never forgive you Holmes!_

_I'll be fine…So you don't need to worry about me…_

_There's so much I want to say to you…._

_But I think I don't have a lot of time left._

_John? Are you there?_

_Make sure you help Sherlock ok?_

_Someone's got to look out for the helpless lunk…_

_I…I guess that's all for now Sherlock…_

…

_Um…I guess that's all for now Sherlock…_

…

_I'll talk to you two soon…_

_I hope…_

The tape clicked. It was finished.

Sherlock stared at it.

He put his forehead against the machine a wave of emotion spreading over him.

He then looked at the newspaper clipping:

"_Euro Train Brings French Problems:_

_In Paris a string of murders has occurred through people dying through sound waves. The Train that ran on March 5__th__ 2011. _In bright red ink by the date said the words: 'Suzanne's train!'

_The cause of the crash seems to be a connection to the sound waves killing the people in France through their mobiles. _Another annotation read: 'SUZANNE'S case!'. Sophie appeared to be using her brain. For once.

_Investigations are still being held under way by detective Irene Adler, refuses to give any comments on the matter. The train is under investigation off of the tracks in Gatwick I area 51._

_Could this be a sign from God that this country too relays too much on its phones?_

Sherlock stopped reading and looked up. Gatwick area 51. Worth a try.

He looked at the note.

KCOLREHS,

GNILOOF TNERA UOY,

EVAH UOY. ENOYNA,

ERA EW. REH ROF SGNILEEF,

SEMAG A YALP OT GNIOG,

NUF CHUS EB LL'TI DNA,

M J

Sherlock scanned the note then held it up to a mirror and read:

,SHERLOCK

,YOU AREN'T FOOLING

,ANYONE. YOU HAVE

,FEELINGS FOR HER. WE ARE

,GOING TO PLAY A GAME

,AND IT'LL BE SUCH FUN

J M

Sherlock was already out of the door and signalling a cab to even compute what he was doing. He no longer felt angry at Suzanne Miles he felt.

Fear.

*12:59, Sherlock, Gatwick area 51*

Sherlock looked at the train; it was on its side in the mud. The wheels had been torn away obviously from the force it was moving. The glass had been removed, and the outside shell seemed to be rusting.

He looked around inside.

The chairs where splattered with blood and flesh. The bodies had obviously been removed by the police. There was no one else there so he began to look around in the carriage. Apart from the clues Sophie gave him, it looked like Suzanne had never been here.

He knelt by a seat deep in thought for a while when a shadow went over his body, he turned to see a woman in the door way.

She was wearing a black trench coat, her black hair went down to her shoulders a black berria sat on her head. Her striking green eyes looked at him unflinchingly, searching him up and down. Her bright red lips contrasted to her pale skin, which stretched into a small grin, she held a couple of files under her arm.

Sherlock stood and they regarded each other in silence. There two minds working.

"What are you doing here?" asked the woman coolly.

"Investigating."

"I thought that was my job."

"Call it a hobby of mine."

The woman grinned at him her white teeth shone out like pearls. "Detective Sherlock Holmes it is an honour to see you in my humble crime scene."

"Holmes?"

"Oh don't play dumb it doesn't suit you."

"I take it you are head investigator…Detective Irene Adler?"

"You are as brilliant as people say."

"Of course."

The woman turned her back on him still grinning seductively beginning to walk out. "Sherlock I have gone through this crime scene with a fine comb you won't find anything."

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

"Have you?"

"No."

"Good."

Sherlock looked at her; she was beautiful that much was certain. Her mind also seemed in good health and worked with the highest degree of thinking.

"I'm like you Sherlock. I've waited a long time for you to stumble onto me."

"No one's like me."

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Dinner tonight your place. I know where to find you."

Before Sherlock could refuse she had gone.

Sherlock frowned his jaw tightening again. What had happened? A woman he barely knew asked him out for dinner? The woman was plainly unique. Her mind was keeping up with his. Who was she? Could she think like him?

He'd find out tonight.

'Irene Adler' he thought to himself 'you are going to interest me very much.'

*? J M, ?*

"_Rise and shine Mister Holmes._

_Rise…_

_And…_

_Shine…_

_Not that I'll infer that you have been sleeping on the job…_

_The right game at the right time at the right challenge, can depict, change and kill life itself…for the players…_

_So wake up Mister Holmes…_

_Wake up…_

_And let my games begin…_

_HAhhhhHHHAHAAAHHH!"_


	6. Cat And Mouse

!

A HUGE THANK YOU TO: SethCohenRocks-2009 and ALICExRxH. Thank YOU GUYS ROCK!

And now I'd better continue:

Chapter Six: Cat And Mouse

Sherlock sat in his armchair his thoughts wrapped around the investigation he had assigned himself to. He hadn't heard from Ms Adler at all for the rest of the day (not that he cared), he had spent another two hours on that train looking for clues but found none. It was like She had never been.

He felt his phone vibrate from a call, he reached for it (as if Ms Adler could know his number…only he could do that) with bated breath. He looked at the screen his thumbs resting on whether to pick up or ignore.

MYCROFT

Was the only name on the screen. He tutted pressing ignore, he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Mycroft called another time but Sherlock still ignored.

He had better things to do.

He was still wondering if She was still alive. He had called the hospital where Her body had been taken, but they told him to piss off. Sophie could indeed be hysterical or mad or both at him so to get revenge she could make up a story to rake this up again. How had She even survived such a fall? She must have broken something. How had She survived a shot to her guts? She didn't have nine lives, yet She always landed on Her feet.

He shook his head hard. "Get a grip Sherlock," he muttered to himself "Deduce it already" he scolded "You have proof a mile high She is alive, a length of evidence ranging from confessions to tapes. Remember the facts: She could do yoga, She was caught by that blanket, and She had survived gun wounds before…" he sat back a little, deep in thought "take away all the impossible" he murmured to himself "and no matter how implausible the answer maybe" he was almost in a trance.

"That's the truth." He covered his face a little. It was work. It wasn't personal. It was work. He had a job to do.

A clap rang through the air. A pair of hands was clapping. But it wasn't Sherlock's.

He turned to see Ms Irene Adler in the door way was clapping. She leant against the piece of wood, she was still wearing her black boots and coat from that morning, but she had refreshed her lipstick (now a pale pink) and she had taken off her hat. Under her arm she held a newspaper, a black leather brief case. The other hand held nothing but (after she had finished clapping) had been placed onto her hip. Her green eyes looked at him with quiet dignity and almost a seduction (like they were daring him not to be in awe of her).

She sat boldly onto one of Sherlock's chairs throwing him newspaper which fell onto his lap. She laid her long legs onto the chair's armrest, opening her brief case onto her lap. Her long black hair falling over her black coat.

Sherlock's phone buzzed from a text, Sherlock deleted it. Just as a whim. Only a guess who it was. No prizes. Why would he bother with something as dull as his brother when a woman as interesting as Irene was sitting right in front of him?

"You came" keep it short and sweet right now Sherlock. Short and sweet.

"Did you expect anything else" she said twirling her hair around her finger in an almost bored way.

"I barely know you."

"Oh I know that is not true. You can probably deduct from what shampoo I use to what I ate when I was two."

"You're right."

"Impress me."

"Now?"

"No in a months' time. When else."

Sherlock sat forward. "You're American."

"From where."

"New Jersey."

"How do you know?"

"Obvious, your hidden accent may be wonderful, but when you say "anything" with a hint of an accent and not to mention the crude sarcasm found in American maybe uncommon in Britain in some places; but let's be honest the vintage New Jersey haircut and brief case you weren't fooling anyone. I'm quite insulted."

Irene looked at him with a slight smirk on her flawless coral lips, "And?" she asked not breaking her small smirk.

"Single child, both parents still married, not married and single, size three shoes. And you are a wanted crook or thief obviously from America. You've only been here for less than a year, no way can you have enough money to get here and look as glamorous as you are."

"You flatter my fame and abilities."

"True though?"

"More or less."

"How dull."

"I can read you. Easy, detective, never shared love mutually, has one brother and mother. Father deceased, studied at the university of Oxford though after a week you must of quit, and apart from working as a consulting detective. You've never worked a day in your life."

"So have you."

"Exactly."

The two adults lapsed into silence. Waiting for the other to make the next move. Sherlock felt his phone buzz but he immediately switched it off. No interruptions.

"We are quite similar…Aren't we Sherlock?" she murmured her dazzling green emerald eyes looking other to him, as if to try and blind him.

"Are we?"

"Both brilliant minds, both never happy, always looking at the full picture. The only difference we hold is that I have fallen off of the rails…but even then I think you have done that. Drug abuse was it?"

"I am clean."

Her lips parted to let out a musical laugh that filled the detective's living room. "You don't have to be bashful to me Sherlock, I know what you mean."

Sherlock frowned a little at her. He was impressed though. She did have one of the most brilliant minds he had ever come across (the first was his of course). To busy himself he looked down at the newspaper that lay on his lap.

It was the 5th page in the guardian. Reading:

"Phone scandal continues to horrifying events."

Sherlock looked up. "You want me, to take up this case?"

"I would."

"Sorry my policies are one case at a time."

"And the first one would be?"

"None of your business."

She tutted frustrated, her body flopping onto her back. A small pout graced her face. But only for a moment. She let out a Cheshire cat grin her pearl teeth smiling. "You're after your girlfriend."

"I don't have a "girl" friend."

"What was her name…Miss Miles?"

Sherlock head tilted away slightly a little confused. "I don't know who you mean."

"As I have often said Sherlock: 'don't play dumb it doesn't suit you'. I know because I do my research. She was on that train, and as a detective I have to do a full profile on all of the victims, and she held by far, the most interesting stories."

"Tell me all you know."

"…"

"Now."

"Fine I'll tell you all of my information. On one condition."

"Which would be?"

"I can assist you."

"If you must."

She smirked at him again, before looking to her painted slender fingers as they opened her leather brief case showing a few papers all wrapped up in a file held together with an elastic band. She threw it to Sherlock who failed to catch it as it slapped against him.

Sherlock looked at the file; it held very little clues only stating the obvious, things he could have told from her first glance.

"Where are your notes on whose body was hers?"

"There were none."

"Excuse me?"

"Sherlock, there was no bodies matching her description. I don't think she died."

Sherlock sat back holding his head with his fingers. Her eyes flashed at him. Obviously thrilled with herself to hold the upper hand.

"Why do you think I went after you? I'm curious and I understand Miles can be a riot: throw a curve board about her past every other night."

Sherlock cleared his throat.

He picked up his coat pulling it around him.

"Where are we going?" she murmured stretching her arms before pulling herself up.

"I'M going to your superiors to try and find some hard evidence about Miles being on that train, I want to know what other people were doing and where they came from, and I need to look at those phones and any items that has been saved."

"You'll need me."

Sherlock said nothing, not even looking back at her as he went to the door. She smirked rolling her stunning eyes before following him to the door.

*Gatwick detective agency, evidence room 509*

Sherlock and Irene stood while waiting for the clerks to bring back the documents and evidence needed for their investigation.

Sherlock looked at Irene or his shadow as he mutely called her now. She held herself with the same small dignity as he. Her hands clasped into an arms cross while his laid calmly in his pockets, both held their weight to the left slightly, and her gorgeous eyes was looking into space analysing the situation a small frown on her un wrinkled brow.

He looked back his head snapping. Strangely cross with himself.

"Here you two are." The guard said bringing out two large plastic boxes.

One labelled in red "EVIdEncE"

The other started off in red before finished in black marker when it ran out said "VicTIMS"

Sherlock opened the victim's files first. Threw five or so to Irene who caught them easily with one hand.

Sherlock pulled up a chair and began to read.

"Can I get or do anything else for you?" asked the police detective.

"Silence" they both said as they were already reading the reports on the bodies found.

Sherlock read the reports one at a time:

8

Gender: MALE

Identified: NO

Death: Skull exploded through sound waves causing brain tumour.

Belongings: Suitcase containing business documents.

11

Gender: MALE

Identified: YES: Arnold Smith

Death: Brain fried due to massive heat caused by microwaves.

Belongings: Jacket, rucksack containing books holding class B drugs.

3

Gender FEMALE

Identified: YES: Mary Louise

Death: Serious brain lose after defending sound waves hit her brain.

Belongings: carrier bag containing newly brought clothes and shoes, her white mink coat was fried.

5

Gender: MALE

Identified: NO

Death: Brain collapse after brain cells damaged.

Belongings: suitcase containing clothes, PSP, book, magazine porn and one booklet of stamps.

7

Gender: FEMALE

Identified: NO

Death: Brain self-destructing after serious tumour and damage given to it from large dosages of micro waves.

Belongings: One (still living) cat in basket, a bicycle, an umbrella and a handbag, contains: tampons, condoms, tissues, keys, water bottle and cat biscuits.

2

Gender: UKNOWN

Identified: NO

Death: Severer brain damage caused by microwaves and body deformity due to gamma rays from her/his phone.

Belongings: one (locked) metal brief case.

That was the last one. Sherlock safely believed that Suzanne was not the unidentified woman with the cat, one she couldn't look after it and two she couldn't ride a bike. He looked across at Irene who was also looking at him.

"Finished?"

"Waiting for you."

"Found anyone?"

"Does Miss Miles play the saxophone?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Then I've got nothing. You got someone?"

"A couple."

"How many is that?"

"One."

"Figures."

Sherlock walked to the EVIdEncE box to look inside. He shifted through little boxes of people's belongings until he found 2's box. He pulled it out.

"You think this is hers?"

"The fact that her and this identification number was 2 wasn't enough to draw me in. The fact that this person has had more bodily wounds, does interest me greatly and that this person has the least amount of items but by far the most interesting item is enough for a look in."

They looked in the box. Inside was a black berry mobile phone. And the brief case.

Irene picked up the mobile, before heading back to her seat and tweaking it with a screw driver.

Sherlock picked up the brief case.

He laid it on his lap as he sat back down his eyes staring at it intently.

There was six letter coordinated slots. Four to the right, two to the left. On the metal brief case there held a highly scratched logo of wobbly lines saying: "Zoourk security".

Damn it.

He looked at Irene who was still screwing the mobile together with her mini screwdriver.

He hoped she might be able to shed some light on penetrating security, because of her background. But she seemed more intent on fixing the mobile.

He looked at the brief case again.

Well no time like the present:

AAAA AA

(A red light came on.)

AAAA AB

(A red light came on.)

AAAA AC

(A red light came on).

He sat back huffily, his brain submitting hundreds of combinations, but that'll take days. He had to know if this person was Suzanne now.

DIEE NO

(A red light came on.)

CATS NO

(A red light came on.)

HELP ME

(A red light came on.)

(AND BECAUSE I'm SURE YOU GET THE GIST NOW LET'S JUST SAY IT TOOK HIM A LOOOOOOOOOOOOG TIME TO GIVE UP AND STILL NOT ONE COMBINATION OPENED THE CASE).

Sherlock sat back totally defeated and exhausted. He took out his phone switched it on and aimed it at the case, so he could try and track it down on the internet files they had of it. Just when he got a pretty good shot. His phone vibrated. Hard.

He had missed 24 calls from Mycroft and he had sent 37 texts. Sherlock hissed a little still annoyed as he deleted them all without reading one.

He missed the shot of the suit case. He cursed and frowned when he heard Irene giggle at his misfortunes. Looking up from her work.

"Why don't you do the case if you're so clever" he snapped at her.

She shrugged off his snappish behaviour with a little shrug as she turned back to her work.

"Here's what I've been doing Sherlock, I've managed to play back the last call the phone made."

She did one final turn with the screw driver as the phone crackled in her hand it managed to say very quietly:

_Ring…Ring…Ring…Ring…_

_Beep…_

_"…Hello this is Sophie?"_

_"Hey sis! It's me!"_

_"Suzanne! Oh My God! How are you? You haven't called in a while!"_

_"Well I've been working on a case here in Paris…Talk about the French connection! Who had thought they think murder is an art here! Well how have you been?"_

_"Well LONELY! And it's all YOU'RE FAULT! Hah just kidding! I've been great I'm finally used to living with Jim! He's such a gentleman! He's out on a business trip to America so we are for now separated…But that leaves some sexual tension if you know what I mean…"_

_"…That's good to hear…Actually I'm thinking of returning to Britain…But before I do…"_

_"I know…I know you want me to post something to…*swoon* Sherlock…"_

_"Shut up I don't sound like that when I talk about him!...Anyway he hasn't replied to any of my tapes…Not one…"_

_"*sigh* well what do you want me to send?"_

_"Actually It's not a tape…It's a scarf…"_

_"A scarf? Oh this couldn't be…THE scarf? I'm not worthy!"_

_"Shut Up! There's still a lot of buzz about what happened a year ago and well…"_

_"I gotcha. So when will I be expecting this…Treasure…This gem in scarf form."_

_"You're really pushing it Sophie…"_

_"Now, now you know I'm only teasing…Oh when you're back you've got to come to this Italian restaurant…Best grub in Leeds!"_

_"Um…Actually I'm thinking of going straight to London…"_

_"*Sigh* look Suzanne he doesn't care about you if he did then he'd well, at least reply or visit…"_

_"You're right…Okay! I'll head straight to Leeds when I get off that train."_

_"Okay I'll see you soon; I'll make the couch comfy for you…"_

_"Yep…I'll see you soon…"_

_"Now Miss Miles I'll take what's mine…The scarf?"_

_"Sorry but you're not getting anything off me…"_

_"Miss Suzanne Miles you are indeed a horrible liar…Isn't your coat pocket what has swallowed the famous scarf…"_

_"Why…Why do you want it?"_

_"You are unfamiliar of my background…It is my job to find Information. Gathering secrets, lies and consulting criminals are all in my job description."_

_"I-I should have been more careful…"_

_"Hoh, hoh you're right about that…! My dear Miss Miles but I'm afraid you won't be returning to England…I will need one last thing from you…_

_Your silence."_

_"!"_

…

_SCREAM!_

_Thwack!_

_"Mo-or-i-ar-ty…*gasp*."_

_She collapsed…_

_*Message recorded on 5th March 2011, Euro Star Train carriage three*_

Sherlock looked away, a small tear in his left eye which he blinked away. Then he looked up determinedly. "It's not her." He murmured.

"What?"

"It's not her. I recognise her voice anywhere. Its close but she wouldn't be that chirpy, ('not after that message she gave me' he thought 'she sounded like she was about to cry') and not mention, I doubt she be such a mind-set as that if she had microwaves and gamma rays to say "Moriarty". In fact why was she still on the phone? It all too…coincidental."

"Well it's all we got. We need the code for that case and with such a mature brand as that suitcase it will take me weeks to even know where to start."

"And I let you come along because…?"

"Because you like me."

Sherlock frowned as he looked back down at his work. But he did like her, she was interesting, clever. Not just clever exceptionally intelligent, well dressed, well talking and he had to also refer to her beauty that matched no others…

His phone rang just in the nick of time. Before he forgot himself.

He looked at the screen

JOHN

Well at least it was a change.

He picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Sherlock…God why don't you ever pick up your phone!"

"John, I'm in the middle of investigation, this excuse better be pretty good-"

"Your brother Sherlock…Mycroft…He's in hospital."

"What! He called me."

"Two hours ago he was shot in the ribs and he was hit by the phone waves, he's suffering from a brain tumour."

"Is…Is he…still?"

"Yes…he's is alive…Just. He's in a coma, London hospital ward C, I'm going there now. You have to get there. The doctors said don't hold your breath on any sort of recovery."

Sherlock switched off his phone.

He stared into space.

His brother had…

He held the bridge of his nose groaning a little.

He looked at the suitcase.

He reached for it.

He had an idea.

He put his thumbs over the keys as he twirled the keys to make a word.

GAME ON

The light turned green.

The suit case flipped open.

Sherlock gazed intently at the contents of the case.

One thing was for sure:

The game was on.

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	7. A Long Night

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Here it comes:

Chapter Seven: A Long Night

Sherlock sat by Mycroft's bed. He was in hospital, Mycroft's heart ventilator and breathing machine was steadily keeping the man alive. For now. Mycroft had bandages all around his head and an air tube through his mouth.

Sherlock looked away; he had the silver case by his heels.

He picked it up and opened it again.

There was nothing there else, except a Dell portable lap top coloured red.

He picked it out of the case and laid it on his lap. He flipped on the lid. It let out a little ring as it loaded up.

Password.

GAME ON.

Access denied.

Hint? He clicked on the box.

Naughty, naughty Sherlock needing a HINT, well here it is my dear: "figure it out yourself". Sherlock let out a small grunt of distaste.

John was asleep in the chair next to Mycroft's bed so he was opposite him. Sherlock looked back at the screen typing in various words and phrases.

John grunted and awoke he looked around while he stretched. He spotted Sherlock instantly.

"You came."

"Of course I did."

"I didn't know you cared."

"He's my brother."

"What's with the new lap top?"

"Key to the investigations John. While you are busy getting married I still know where my loyalties lie."

"And they would be?"

"To myself."

"How stupid of me not to guess."

Sherlock glared slightly over the screen but otherwise ignored him."

John blew his cheeks up and looked around the ward hoping to find some inspiration. He found some. They took the form of Irene Adler, who was asleep on the cold metal chairs connected to the wall. She was still dressed in black, her long well-toned legs stretched to the next seat beside her, her arms crossed over her chest as her head had nodded into them. He mouth was slightly opened, yet no spit was coming out and her pristine lipstick wasn't even smudged around the corners.

"Who's she?" he asked a single eyebrow rose.

"A detective looking into the phone killings herself. She could be useful."

John wasn't convinced. "Sherlock." He snapped "look at me."

Sherlock glanced up from the laptop.

"You can NOT get into a new relationship. You are still morning over…"

"John, listen I'm not morning over anyone. I'm fine. And besides I don't even want a relationship, I'm happy on my own married to my work."

"No, Sherlock YOU listen. After the Great Game with Moriarty you have been acting odd. You've been acting colder (if that is possible) towards people women especially, you cry at night. YES YOU DO I'VE HEARD YOU! And the case needs to be phonologically hard for you to even consider solving it. YOU HAVE BEEN MORNING. And if you think this girl is a good subject to use as a rebound tool then: NO WAY." He hissed across Mycroft to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at him up and down before he sniffed and looked back at the screen.

"Sherlock…I want to help you…"

"Yes you wish to get married. THAT'S helping me."

"Why can't you just let me be HAPPY for once in my miserable life?"

"In the long run you'll thank me."

"NO SHERLOCK! Even in the long run I'll NEVER thank you if you ruin this."

"I don't see the point you are trying to make."

"The point is Sherlock is that you have a problem."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You…You are emotionally numb. You NEVER show a single thread of emotion. Even when you came here, you haven't uttered a single goodbye or a single tear."

"Probably because he's not dead yet."

"How can you be so cold?"

"Will it do him any good?"

"Probably not."

"Then I shall refrain from making that mistake."

John looked away. Growling to himself. He then looked down. Deep, deep, very deep down. He did pity Sherlock. "What do you dream about?"

"Hmmm?" Sherlock asked looking up from the laptop.

"What do you dream about at night?"

"I don't dream."

"Is that what makes you cry?"

"I DON'T cry at night" Sherlock hissed across to John.

"Do you dream about Suzanne?"

"No."

"Do you dream of falling off of that building, the night she disappeared?"

"She didn't disappear she died."

"I think she survived."

*Scoff*

"I think she did. And so do you. But you want her to be dead."

Sherlock looked up at him glaring that stronger men would be silenced against.

"You don't want your heart to ache. You don't want to change. You don't want you heart to feel the aches and pains by something so beautiful as love."

"Stop it."

"That's why you cry at night. You feel so powerless. Because you did love her didn't you? You still do. But you don't want to. Do you?"

"What's this you doctor's prognosis?"

Irene opened her left eye a crack having been awoken by the two men's arguments and cutting words.

"Why are you angry? Why are you always angry?"

"I'm NOT angry!"

"YES you are."

Sherlock looked away his hands gripping the lap top edges tightly.

"Are you angry at me?"

"No."

"Are you angry at Suzanne?"

"No." Sherlock hissed closing his eyes his head looking down onto the lap top.

"Are you angry at Sophie? Irene? Sarah? Mycroft? Moriarty?"

"No. No. No. No. No." He said holding his head.

"Then WHO?" Shouted John.

Sherlock held the PC so hard it shook. He closed his eyes squeezed shut gritting his teeth.

"AT MYSELTH!"

A voice he had never used before, all of his inner, rage, sadness, passion that he had stored away in his body had fuelled such a voice; until it worked its way up his chest until bursting through his lips.

He threw the lap top at the same time. John had to move fast because it shot over his head until smashed against the wall and falling to pieces.

Sherlock sat back down holding his head. He had never felt so vulnerable. When at last he spoke his voice was thick. "I'm…I'm…so angry…at myself…I don't know what to do…I despise myself John I…" he held his head groaning trying to get his words out. "…I want to curl up and die sometimes…"

John blinked at the man in front of him. He had never seen Sherlock like this before. He had never seen any man let out such an outburst.

They sat there staring at each other. Like two boxers who had grown tired fighting and the only thing they could do was sit down at stare at each other.

Irene looked at the lap top with her one green eye. Paying no attention to the two men.

Crap.

John looked at Sherlock, he looked behind him to the lap top smashed to pieces. God. He had never seen a man do that before to a machine. He turned back to Sherlock, who was still burying his eyes into his right sleeve as he looked down at the floor. A broken man.

John looked to the bottom right slightly. "You know…"

Sherlock looked up slightly.

"You know…I might not get married just yet…Sarah and I are only engaged. The actual marriage is not for months yet…"

Sherlock looked down.

"Listen…Do you love her?"

Irene's one eye went back to Sherlock.

Sherlock scratched the back of his head, "Who?" he asked in a defeated way.

"Whoever you want."

Sherlock looked up with a puzzled expression.

"Sherlock, I and the people around you don't care who you love, him or her, but we just want you to be happy. You need a conscious, you need some balance or weight to your life. And I'm not going to be with you forever. You need to love someone besides your own work."

"Easier said than done."

"Try it."

Sherlock looked at the lap top. He got up and walked over to it. He picked it up. "I might be able to fix it." He murmured to himself.

John tutted and got up pulling on his jacket. "I'm going to Sarah's goodnight." He snapped before walking to the door.

Irene's eye followed him until he walked out of the door and left the hospital.

Sherlock carried what was left of the lap top and began to work on it. His face was hard and neutral like marble. His hands working furiously on trying to fix the lap top.

Irene waited for another thirty minutes until she stretched pretending to awaken.

She yawned at she slowly sat up "Where did Watson go?" she asked cracking her back bones and spine.

Sherlock grunted, not looking up at her.

She walked slowly towards the detective who was still furiously trying to fix the lap top.

"Did you have a fight with the lap top?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock looked away.

She sat next to him pulling up a chair that faced the wall. "Do you want me to leave?"

Sherlock looked at her, it wasn't his business whether she stayed or not. He looked at Mycroft. He'd make it. Men like him always did.

He picked up the lap top and walked to the exit. She smirked getting up and followed him. Sherlock turned to her savagely "Did I say you could come?"

"No I did." She smirked hooking his arm with hers and leading him out of the building. Sherlock could tell that resistance was futile and decided that he better just let her take him to a cab.

*10:34pm, Sherlock and Irene, 221 Baker Street*

Sherlock sat at the table, feeling definably cooler. He twiddled the screw driver fixing the pieces of memory bit by bit, he even let out a tuneless whistle to pass the time.

Irene sat beside him her sugar white fingers fixing the pieces of the machine slowly and precisely.

"You don't take a girl out much do you." She murmured looking over her work to him.

Sherlock didn't reply, he simply glared over to her.

"Why are scared of me Sherlock Holmes. You're not that stupidly male are you or are you scared of what we could be together."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"You're right. You should be doing that."

"You like the sound of your own voice."

"It helps me work."

"Really? silence is the key for me."

"I take it is a sign of your likings to me if you insult me."

"No it's a sign of me wanting you to be quite."

"Oh come now, a battle of wits, of who can out sass the other."

Sherlock said nothing. He just looked down at his work.

She smirked. Now for her ace. She pressed the pieces of the hard drive together, the lights on the pieces of green plastic began to buzz, and as she wired it up to a radio and adding a few wires here a few connectors there. She saw very slowly Sherlock peering over his own bits of plastic to see what she was making.

At last she pressed two wires together, and the machine crackled and buzz to let out a voice of it's own.

"Hellllllllo! Sher-lock" the machine said in its robotic voice. "you have managed to break into my personal PC naughty, naughty, naughty. Well the first clue will be arriving shortly and THEN we get to have our little fun!"

She pressed the mess of wires and connectors, which stopped it.

Irene looked at him with her intense green eyes, smirking at him. "Well I better be going to bed. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"You assume we."

"I know we because. You. Are. Going. To. Need. MY. Help." She said slowly and patronisingly.

She walked away.

Sherlock had had enough. He grabbed his coat and followed her to the exit of the apartment.

"You won't be needed Adler." He murmured.

She turned with a raised eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes…I can do this by myself always have. Always will."

"You are going to take on both cases by yourself."

"They are both entwined together it's not a case of one or the other."

"Sorry, but you need me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do" she murmured putting her coat on.

"Goodbye Miss Adler."

"I'll be back tomorrow. But you won't want that. This crude flirting we have been doing all day is beginning to bore me Sherlock. Just say you are interested with me and like me, then I'll leave."

"We barely know each other."

"In what respects? I can read you and you can read me. I know things about you that you have never told a soul. And you know all of my secrets from one glance, even though no one else in this bloody country can figure it out."

Sherlock said nothing. His heart beating uncomfortably.

"Normal relationships are boring. Aren't they Sherlock? People dancing around each other taking their time. playing hard to get. Third date. They have to know what the other person's favourite colour is before they can even think of saying the L word."

He said nothing but just look at her. She opened the door. "Shouldn't we both grow up and admit the facts to each other? We were made for each other."

Sherlock's jaw tightened. She was right. They were perfect for each other.

She took a step out into the street a light shower falling onto them. She stood in the rain her hands deep in her black coat's pockets.

She put a hand gently on to his cheek. He inwardly flinched, but he made an effort to keep his body still and tense.

She placed a kiss against his cheek.

He turned his face slightly, to look at her. They were perfect together.

He gently put his lips against hers.

They kissed.

Her coral lipstick smudged against his plain ones. Their hair a perfect ebony black mixed together so it looked like it was coming from the same head. She put her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened.

Was it out of love?

I do not know. I cannot say that they were in love. They might have known each other to the finest details but does that count? But do you really need to know some one's character and actions to fall in love with them. As crude as it is, is love at first site really considered a worthy form of love. I suppose it is.

Sherlock and Irene kiss lasted for about three minutes. They broke for air looking at each other.

"I'll see you tomorrow Sherlock." She whispered. Before kissing his cheek.

Sherlock smirked at her. He decided to do one up to her and kissed her straight on the lips again. And then he let her go.

Sherlock lay down onto the bed. Irene. Irene Adler. She was some detective. He smirked a little. He hadn't had that much fun since…Since he went to university.

He knew she was beautiful, he also knew she was intelligent.

One thing he knew for sure was that he and Irene had only just begun.

*11:56, Irene, ?*

Irene smirked as she walked into the dark room. She turned on the table lamp that sat in the middle of the table.

"Welcome back." She smirked as she turned on the light in the middle of the table.

Suzanne sat up immediately upon hearing the noise. Tears streaming down her face.

She wasn't tied up or gaged. But the look of fear in her grey eyes was evident.

Suzanne Miles. Was having a very bad new year.

SOMEBODY PLEASE REVIEW!


	8. Days Of The Lost

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Thank you: SammyFan4Life, AxRxHOWE and Terrorist Of The Seven Seas for reviewing…YOU GUYS ALL ROCK!

Chapter Eight: Days Of The Lost

(Back Three Months).

*11:57 New Year's Eve, Suzanne, Train Station*

_Suzanne ran hard her feet smacking against the concrete as she almost blindly ran for cover, she could hear the laughter of Moriarty as Suzanne frantically ran like a man woman. She had to stop a stitch growing in her side._

"_I knew you couldn't resist coming back here…Now the scarf…"_

_Suzanne's hands tightened on the scarf in her pocket. No. She tried to run again. Frantic to try to bet the impossible and. Run._

_She felt her neck being grabbed by Moriarty before being slammed against one of the station's stone pillars. _

_"We've got to stop meeting like this" he murmured his hand going into her pocket and wrenching out Sherlock's scarf._

_Suzanne tried to grab it back, but her arms were beginning to grow numb from the lack of circulation of blood._

_She felt a sudden prick in her shoulder._

_She fell to the ground her breathing ragged, trying to stay awake._

_Jim Moriarty laughed in the background looking at his handy work. He was suddenly joined by some more laughter. A laugh to a voice Suzanne had never heard before it was…a woman? What was going on?_

_"John" she managed to slur battling with herself to stay awake if she could just…just…stay…awake._

_"Sherlock" she slurred quieter now._

_"Help…me…"_

_She blacked out._

*?, Suzanne, ?*

_She didn't start to remember again until, she was rudely awakened by the back of her head smashing against something cold and metallic. She grabbed her head in her hands going into a ball groaning. She felt various other articles moving around her while she was being thrown around by something._

_Only when she heard a car horn passed her new surroundings, did she get the message. She was in a car. A car boot to be exact._

_She felt a growing balloon of panic and distress when she remembered what had happened a few hours ago. She frantically hit the boot with her foot and fists screaming all the time._

"_HELP ME! I'M IN THE BOOT OF THE CAR! HELP!"_

_She screamed that over and over again all the time hitting what she thought was the entrance with her fists and body._

_She didn't even stop when the car stopped. In fact I think she became louder._

_The boot was opened._

"_SHUT THE HELL UP!" shouted a voice she had never heard before._

_She tried to crawl to the exit but she was immediately rewarded with a dosage of whatever Moriarty had given her._

_That was the last time Suzanne felt the outside fresh air for a long time._

*?Suzanne, ?*

_She had no memory of what happened next. She had no memory of being dragged or carried into a room or house. She must have been so out of it that her mental recording had stopped. _

_When at last she woke up, she found herself on her back. Her green coat and tape recorder had been taken away from her, and she was sure that her suitcase was still at the station. She felt a line of drool going down her cheek. She sat up._

_Big Mistake._

_She groaned grabbing her head flopping back down. She shook her head up and down groaning in pain. At last the headache seemed to pass. She whipped the drool off of her face. Blinking hard._

_She tried to sit up again. This time (thankfully) she wasn't stricken by another head ache, she looked around she seemed to be on a metal framed bed which was nailed to the wall, she couldn't feel her coat anywhere. She seemed to be wearing a cotton tank top and denim jeans. Her shoes and socks had been removed._

_She looked around the room, the walls seemed to be made of concrete with little attached to it apart from a shelf that held various items like a comb and a tooth brush. The floor was wooden floor boards slotted together. Apart from the bed a table was nailed to the middle of the floor on the table there seemed to be some sort of material, a chair sat next it, also nailed to the floor._

_She put her hand against the cold wall and could just about feel a light shower hit the only window that happened to be a sky light which was in the middle of the roof._

_When at last she knew there was no danger she got up and decided to stretch her legs. She plodded around the room in her bare feet. It was a perfect square, with fifteen of her feet to each corner. The door stood on the wall opposite her bed. It was a steel rusty thing, where a viewing flap was in the top middle half of the door._

_She placed her ear against the door trying to hear something. It seemed to be sound proof though. _

_She laid her throbbing hot forehead against the cold door. She didn't know where she was._

_Was she in the hands of Moriarty?_

_Who else could it be? The tooth fairy?_

_She felt all of her fears sink in. She was in an obvious holding cell, held against her will in a location she had no idea where it was on the map. It could be a different country for all she knew. They had captured her in public and given her drugs to keep her quiet._

_What sort of men where they?_

_She stayed there for a good fifty minutes her thoughts going around her head. Feeling her confidence and self-safety drain out of her body._

_Thump…_

…_Thump…_

…_Thump._

_Someone was coming._

_She could tell the person was five feet away from the door._

_She ran back to the bed nearly falling over the table and chair. But she managed to keep her face away from the floor and clamber onto the bed just as the door beeped open._

_Slow deliberate footsteps walked into the cell. She knew those feet._

_Moriarty._

_She hadn't managed to lie down so acting like she was asleep was out of the question._

"_So, my dear you have managed to awakened."_

_She said nothing. Keep your cool, he hasn't done anything to you yet._

"_Not a talker tonight are we?" he said walking slowly towards her, "you haven't started a big speech telling me, that you can look after yourself, that you will escape and I cannot hold you?"_

_She looked down, not wanting to fan the flames of the fire that she had found herself in._

"_No? Nothing at all?" he smirked "how very disappointing how very, very, very disappointing. You have thawed out Sherlock's cold heart and you lack all passion to tell me I know nought."_

"_What do you want from me?"_

"_Well" he smiled manically sitting on the chair swinging his legs "having you in my cage is enough to put a smile on my face, I hold Sherlock's only tamer. Another thing is that you will be working for me."_

_She had kept her silence until this. Her Miles side kicked in, her head shot up to let out a full-fledged frown. "Forget it." She snapped._

_Moriarty let out a laugh and clapped "YES! That's what I was wanting! A bit of fire in your eyes!" he suddenly turned completely serious "But I'm afraid, little girl, you have no choice. I own you know."_

_She felt her hands turn into fist as they lay down on her knees. Her eyes turned almost red._

"_You will be assisting me by, making jackets. Not just any jackets though. These will have explosives sewn into them. I will need you to make a minimum of twenty of these jackets."_

_She said nothing, a quiet protest._

"_Now you are angry at me." Moriarty smiled going onto the bed next to her. "If we are going to start an employer and employee relationship we have to be straight with each other."_

_She closed her eyes, feeling like her personal space was being invaded._

"_And if you don't. Then I'll make sure personally, your head is softer than a boiled apple."_

_She turned to him. _

_Last straw._

_She grabbed him by the throat throwing him across the room._

_He was flung over the table and chair before he was flat on his face. His head shot up "GOOD!" he smiled like he was a kid near a Christmas tree. _

_He got up straightening his suit. _

"_I know how to break you, my dear."_

_She looked at him fully._

"_Just a little click of my fingers and then your sister, mother, John, Sherlock. Will be blown up sky high."_

"…"

"_But, my dear. You are forgetting where you are. You are in my country."_

_He walked to the door._

"_Remember that" he said opening the door._

_The desperation made her loose it._

_The threats made her get up._

_Her own situation made her run._

_She ran to the door jumping onto the table and leapt to the door._

"_I wouldn't do that if I where you" he murmured too quietly for her to hear._

_He stepped out of the way as she dived through the door frame._

_She hit the wall outside the door. She tried to carry on running but footsteps ran from both ends of the corridor that was outside the cell. She carried on still trying to run. She was suddenly winded when a handle of a gun came into contact with her gut. She fell down._

"_You bitch!" a man's voice she had never heard before as he carried on hitting, kicking and slamming her body with the gun's handle._

_She rolled into a ball, holding her head as her body was beaten to a black and blue mess._

"_That's enough Packham, she has learned her lesson."_

_She was grabbed by the arms and was dragged back into her cell. And laid on the floor a bloody mess._

_They injected her with the cocktail that made her black out._

_Moriarty went down onto one knee._

"_You will have a bad time if you don't play by my rules. Obviously whoever raised you taught you no manners. But that's okay. Because we are going to break you."_

_She closed her eyes blacking out._

_Hoping she might actually wake up. This time._

*? Saturday?, Suzanne, Her cell*

(Modern Day)

Suzanne connected the two wires to the bomb. Her hands were shaking. That was normal though. She had developed it over time.

Her hands shook as she connected the rough wire to the fine wire to connect the two putties to then make it an actual explosive substance. She felt a hard march passing her cell door.

She held her breath. "If I had a hammer. I'd hammer in the morning, I'd hammer in the evening, all over this land." She sung tunelessly

She felt the footsteps leaving the area around her. She sat back feeling relief wash over her.

The only way she survived now.

Acting completely bonkers.

It saved her a beating, being drugged, and being put on the no food for two days diet, it also saved her a lot of other things she wasn't too proud of.

She looked back at her work. Everyday they'd give her patty, five different types of wires and some blunt wire cutters (that was not sharp enough to cut through the door wires or file away at the door). At first she would make jackets various different pieces of material was given to her to make into sleeveless jackets where she sewn enough explosives to take out a twenty story building.

She wasn't proud of what she was doing. She hated it. But on the first day she woke up after her first run in with punishment; she decided to play by the rules for now. She had made those twenty jackets. But she didn't dare ask what Moriarty had done with them. All she knew was that Moriarty hadn't brought the back yet.

The door beeped. Suzanne's eyes widened. It wasn't Sunday…

She stood up from her chair, her bruises on her arms and body made her skin incredibly tight. The injection marks and her crooked spine made it difficult to perform the action.

Packham waltz into the cell "time for your medicine" he said almost smirking.

Suzanne growled a little at Packham. 60% of the time they tried to keep her sedated. She didn't want to blow her cover so she blinked around the room like she couldn't feel exactly where he was.

She was given a blow to the face that caused her to fall onto the floor. She was also given a painful shot in the shoulder.

She blanked out as bile rose in her throat that burned her chest and lungs.

She flopped onto the mattress shivering (the metal frame had been taken away from her when she had stood onto the bed to try and reach the sky light. She had almost made it until Packham heard her panting and groaning as she tried to pull her bulk through the smashed window).

"This was going to hurt."

She panted as she heard the door beep shut. She closed her eyes.

_She looked around she was walking down a pavement. She looked both ways waving her stick as she tried to cross. _

_She walked when she heard no cars coming. She was half way across when she heard:_

"_SUZY WATCH OUT!" She was pushed out of the way falling back onto the pavement._

_No._

_She heard the car hit the man as he fell down. Was this man her father? Was it her step father? All she could see was red. Red as the blood poured out of the old man's head._

_The red blood swept over her like a tidal wave._

_She screamed as all she could feel and see was the red blood pouring over her._

_She looked around as the red disappeared._

_The ground shifted under her. She at last managed to see the ground. Skulls. She screamed._

_She tried to run but all that happened was her imagination made mountains of skulls and rivers of skulls. All of them moving as the ground violently shook._

_She looked around, where was the shaking coming from?_

_Something burst through the ground off skulls._

_Her brother._

_Her brother?_

"_SUZY!" he shouted towering over her as the sky became red. "the solution to your problem is easy" shouted Wayne waving his umbrella, "just remember YOU ARE A MILES! DO NOT FORGET!"_

"_Do not forget the respect and wonder MILES can make you!"_

_She screamed from utter fright._

_He grabbed her arms and legs painful wires went inside her arms stinging her flesh._

"_AND UP!" he shouted treating her like a puppet._

"_AND !" he shouted twirling her around and around and all the time she was screaming. _

_She nearly blew her head in she was screaming so much._

She shivered as she sat up holding her chest in her arms in an X shape over her chest. She looked down at her lap tears running down her hot face.

She suddenly felt hands go to either side of her face, cupping both of her cheeks. She let out a small groan. Not today. Slender thumbs ran against her cheeks, soothing her tears.

"Don't be afraid" whispered a voice she knew all too well.

"Sherlock?" she whispered looking up at him.

He put his forehead against hers. "The one and only."

"You always did torment me."

He put his lips against hers. She kissed him right back.

She had missed him. Of course she did. She wouldn't admit it to herself. She had pushed all of her feelings for Sherlock to the back of her subconscious. Until now.

She she sat up so she was on her knees, put her arms encircled around his neck as he put his arms around her waist.

She could smell him. She could feel him. She could hear him. She could almost taste him.

But she knew it wasn't real.

Sherlock didn't care.

She brought her face away from his.

It was the drugs. Not him.

She felt around. No one was there.

She was lying on her side on her mattress.

It had all been in her head.

She curled into a ball. It still hurt though. It hurt every time she ran through the events of that night her life had changed forever. She had kissed Sherlock. Had he kissed her back? Had it all been distorted by a foolish blind beggar? Was Sherlock even real? Was anything real anymore?

She put her hands over her forehead groaning as another head ache hit her like a load of bricks.

"Don't think like this Suzanne" she murmured to herself. "You're not beaten yet."

She felt her room shake a little from the Saturday train. She was pretty sure she was close to a train station, because at a certain time of every day three trains would past he room. It would shake the room horribly but it helped her tell the time and at least she did have a routine to every day.

If it was the second train of the day then it meant food time.

If it was the first train she could work out and gain some strength to her muscles for when the day came, when she was moved (you'll hear more about that in a minute).

If it was the third train then it was real luck.

She put her ear to the wall she could just about here something coming. One, two, three, four, five trailers.

Third train.

She grinned. It was the little things that stopped her killing herself (not that she could).

She had learned very early on that the only camera's in the building wasn't in her cell. It was directly outside, in the corridor. On her "learning" escape attempts, she had found there was four camera's directly outside in the corridor alone. On some of her better days she had counted up to fifty beyond that. So going outside wasn't an option.

So she could only make one logical answer to this problem.

She'd Dig.

While the dummy escape attempts helped her learn the base more thoroughly it also made everyone think that she wasn't planning anything big inside her cell.

She flipped her mattress away. The third train meant that Packham and all of the people who really gave a hoot had the rest of the evening off. Everyone who was left wasn't a push over but is you bunched some clothing into a lumpy mass and put her thing blanket over it they'd buy it.

She got her fleshy blunt fingers under one of the floor boards managing to pull them up.

It had taken her almost a whole week to pull out the floor boards out of the sticky glue but she had managed it. To get rid of the dirt and excess concrete she had put them all into small plastic bags that held the explosive mesh she used to make the bombs (when first asked she said she ate them) pushed the dirt into the six bangs and then flushed it down the toilet. flushed it down the toilet (YES SHE HAD ONE! SORRY I DON'T MENTION IT WHEN DESCRIBING THE ROOM, it was in the left hand corner).

She scooped up the six bags the size and width of her hand before painfully sliding down the hole.

She had managed to go pretty far. About a quarter of a mile down and thirty feet forward. She needed to go forward double that amount. Just to be on the safe side.

She scooped her hands in the dirty, the dirt was thick clay that spared her the worry of the tunnel collapsing often.

Now time for details. When I mentioned moving day it meant this: it was a term she had often heard from day one. She had no idea what it meant. All she did know was that Moriarty had a plan. Well he and his co-worker had a plan. Suzanne had never met this co-worker. And on that day she would be moved to a new prison obviously a trap for herself…Or Sherlock. She didn't know whether she should be looking forward to it or not.

Her stomach rumbled as she tied up the third bulging bag. She was so hungry. They hadn't fed her today, when they remembered they gave her some liquid muck (I think it was a form of milk shake they have in hospitals) and the only solid thing in her diet a piece of bread.

She sat back rubbing her raw feet. Sunday was tomorrow, that was the day she'd have a meeting with Jim Moriarty. He'd discuss figures and statistics of her work and of how many escape attempts she had tried to pull. If it was over ten she'd get punished. Their personal favourite was sticking her head in a bowl of water.

When all six bags where brimming with clayey dirty she walked back through and up the tunnel, before slotting pieces of wood back over the hole. She plodded to the toilet and flushed the bags away. She then pushed her mattress over the hole, before slowly and very carefully laid down flat on it wincing as her crooked spine moved in her back, causing her raw nerve muscles to sting and ache.

The worst part of the day for her. She had nothing to do. The last train had left she couldn't do any more work on the tunnel, she had no more food to eat. The bomb for the day been taken and finished. The only thing she could do was think of all of the mistakes she had caused in her life. And how she had ruined everything.

*? Sunday?, Suzanne, Her cell*

(Modern Day)

Suzanne was asleep on her mattress dreaming of nameless fears and joys. The door beeped open. She opened her eyes slightly at the sound, she got up a little on her right elbow the blanket coming down her left shoulder.

"Get Up!" snapped Packham, banging the frame of the door with his gun.

She got up wincing when she cracked her back, she stretched a little before holding out her wrists for Packham to cuff her.

*? Sunday?, Suzanne, Questioning room*

(Modern Day)

Suzanne blinked around the room her eyes wide, her hands where laid flat on the desk in front of her. A woman sauntered up to the desk sitting down in front of her. She was wearing high heels and a long shaped coat with a leather belt around her waist, a woollen hat sat on top of her head, Suzanne didn't let on she could see all thins, she just sat there waiting for this woman to do something.

"Miss Miles, it's such an honour to finally meet you. My name is Irene Adler."

Suzanne blinked like she had just heard her and she wanted to know where she was.

"I hope they are keeping you well."

Suzanne launched into a routine she usually did with Moriarty. "Well, first they made me sick, and then they made me well, then they made me sick again, and then I didn't know whether I was coming or going, because then I was made well you see and then sick-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP" shouted Packham hitting her in the back with the back of his gun.

She had to bite down not to scream from the pain that caused her.

"Well my dear, I know what you are capable of. Why have you demoted yourself to such a state" murmured the woman she had a hint of an accent. American?

Suzanne looked up slightly "…then you all made me…sick one last time" she managed to choke, before dropping her eyes.

"Well dolly, I've told you that before." She said her voice turning to an old ladies rasp.

Suzanne sat up, "you..." she murmured.

"Not so wide eyes now are we?"

"You where the old crone in the carnival in Paris…The fortune teller?"

"Lost your lisp too."

Suzanne looked down. She had been wondering about that.

"See that's the sort of fighting I've wanted from you!"

"What are you doing here" she growled suddenly deadly.

"well if you think it's for you then don't flatter yourself. I'm here for a man. You might know him. Tall, dark, handsome, thin, blue eyes."

"….Sherlock…?"

"Good guess Suzy."

She looked down "Don't hurt him."

"You don't know what I'm going to do."

"Please don't hurt him…."

"I'm not going to hurt him. He is going to lust for him and I him. Because you see Suzanne we people don't think love is that important it's what people like you with miserable lives cling for, for a bit of purpose in your life."

Suzanne looked up. How dare she.

She suddenly pushed the table into Irene's chest making her fall backwards. She managed to hit her before she too was hit off by Packham who proceeded to beat her. Irene must have stopped him for he had finished too fast.

"Get over yourself" she suddenly hissed to the quivering Suzanne "Why would anyone want you? Look at yourself. Oh wait you can't."

Suzanne felt the club being hit against her again but this time she barely felt it. Irene's words stung her more that the club. What made her finally black out though was that the club bashed her right ear with such force she felt her brain rattle in her skull.

*?, Suzanne, ?*

(Modern Day)

It was strangely quiet when she awoke. She sat up. Where was that ringing coming from. She shook her head hard. It finally hit her.

She put her left hand against her left ear. She couldn't hear anything. She clicked her fingers against it. Nothing. She panic she clapped her hands against her ear. Nothing. Her right ear could hear it just fine but her left one…had broken.

"I can't hear a damn thing." She murmured to herself.

That did it.

That was the last straw.

Before she knew what she had done she was inside the tunnel and digging for her life. She could not bear another day like this one.

She had been digging for about two hours when she heard the door above her open. She began to dig faster and faster.

"MILES!" she heard. Packham. "YOU BETTER BE SICK OR DEAD IN THOSE BLANKETS I KID YOU NOT!"

Ignore it she thought you are almost there.

She was just digging up to the surface when she heard behind her.

"MILES! WHY YOU SCHEMEING BITCH!"

She stared at him. It was all over. She suddenly frowned at him. She suddenly leapt at him, kicking and punching him. She stuffed his hat into his mouth to gag him and used the rope he kept to attach to her hand cuffs to tie him up. She smirked at him.

~::~

Suzanne broke through the earth she looked around. She had taken Packham back into her room where she hid him on the mattress and under the blanket. She looked around. Where was she?

She began to panic it was only a matter of time before they figured out she was gone. What if they caught her now?

She was interrupted by her thoughts when she heard a loud honk off of a train. She dived out of the way just in time. She was in the middle if some train track. She looked down at the tracks. An idea came into her head.

~::~

She had her right ear pressed against the dirt and pavement, listening for another train. She at last heard the rumblings and clanking of a train coming. By the sound of the foundation of the train it sounded that it had trucks of coal or some sort of dirt. Oh the irony.

She waited.

Okay, okay, okay and LEAP! She leapt onto the side of the train her arms around a piece of metal on one of the trucks. She fell onto her back, groaning. She hadn't gotten a good grasp. She shakily and painfully sat up again. She broke into a run, running for the train again. Leaping again. This time she managed to pull herself onto the metal beast.

She lay down exhausted, her breath ragged. She had developed (probably from lack of exercise) a short span of running, before she hit a wall.

This was going to be a long day, as she heard the first early morning birds singing.

~::~

She heard birds singing, as she lay at the back of the train it had to be sunset. She had to keep herself away from the edge encase she fell from it. She sniffed the air. She knew that scent. She grinned.

"I'm home" she whispered.

She could smell the London trains, the food, the smog, and the birds. The scent she had missed for nearly a year. She had made it. She waited for the train to slow down for a turn, when she rolled off of it.

She walked around in a circle for a while trying to get her bearings. She at last left the train tracks. She was now at the mercy of the London streets.

~::~

A light shower went down as she made her way around the London streets, she had completely lost where she was going. London at the best of times was confusing, but at night (and if you are blind), have no money, can't completely hear, and the smell was being dampened by the rain.

Yet she kept going. Her homing instincts where telling her she was close. But it didn't come with a map.

She dived out of the way in the nick of time before a black cab ran her over. She felt it crash into a building, she ran for cover as many other cars and cabs smashed into the unfortunate. She was caught by the side of one of the cabs causing her to spin around on her feet. She ran for cover in an alley way. Her body was pulsing, she was too tired and weak to carry on. She laid on the wet pavement, she had to keep going.

She was so close.

So close to Sherlock.

So close to…home.

*08:19, Mycroft, London Streets*

Mycroft stood wearing his hard hat with the planes of London street, the London mayor was standing beside him; last night a terrible accident occurred when a cab came off of the road and onto the pavement smashing a building, where many other cars and cabs hit into each other trying to keep away from the accident. It resulted with sixteen casualties. But no one had died.

"Must have been some fight" muttered the mayor (Mycroft didn't bother to learn the names to all the politicians for he knew he could replace them with a click of his fingers), who held up a piece of clothing.

"Wait let me see that" Mycroft snapped, recognising the brand and the colour. "No it couldn't be" he muttered analysing the specimen.

He walked around the road tracing her movements.

He looked towards the alley way. He walked into the sealed off area.

He saw her.

"Suzanne, oh no" he crouched down. She seemed to be breathing. He recognised her in a second. She was so thin and dirty.

She woke up upon feeling the heat radiating off of his body. She tried to get up. But she was too weak for her thin arms to raise her malnourished body.

"It's okay Suzanne" Mycroft murmured "I'm going to get help but I'll be back, try to hang on."

She closed her eyes, she had managed to pick up a bit of the conversation, but not much.

*?, Suzanne, ?*

Suzanne awoke. She was on a bed. She hadn't been on one of these in a while. She at first feared she was back in her cell, but the bed had a comfortable feather mattress and pillows. And it was king size. Her crooked spine had a hot water bottle under it. Her long dark brown/red hair that had been covered with dirt, grease and goodness knows what else had been given a clean so it was lighter and not knotted. She was still wearing her mucky clothes (much to her relief), but her bruises and wounds had been cleaning.

Her one good ear, heard a distant clicking of mobile buttons and a woman's breath. She tried to sit up but she didn't have control of her body yet. She heard someone coming.

She managed to pull herself into a sitting position, wincing a little.

"Ah my dear you are awake" Mycroft said walking over to her.

She blinked at him, she had only met Mycroft once for a fleeting moment, and even then he didn't leave much of an impression.

"It's me Mycroft, Sherlock's brother, I'm going to help you."

She still didn't trust him.

"And I can help you find Sherlock."

Her eyes widened a little. She smiled a little.

*02:35, Suzanne, Mycroft's home outside*

She sat down on the patio outside the house. Mycroft, was a very kind man, very brilliant (he could match Sherlock wit for wit), and he seemed quite nice (in a smug and slightly irritating way). His PA that was ALWAYS typing on her phone was….always typing on her phone (she had never spoken to her EVER).

Mycroft for half the night tried to contact Sherlock, through phoning and texting him. Suzanne was beginning to get anxious.

She had been ridden with crutches after Mycroft's personal doctor had looked her over. She had an operation next week to sort out her crooked spin. She looked around the garden, utterly bored as she heard Mycroft leaving another hateful message for Sherlock's phone. She didn't understand why he didn't just drive her to Sherlock's apartment.

She stayed outside for another good fifteen minutes when she heard a shot inside the house. She turned. What was that?

"Mycroft?" she asked standing up using one of her crutches for support. She put her head against the door.

"Where's the girl?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Yes you do. We've got her micro chipped we know she's in the vicinities, somewhere here."

"Sorry, but you not getting anything out of me. If she was here she would be running away right now."

She heard a gun being loaded. Her heart stopped. "She is stupid she will try to protect you."

"No she HAS to get out of here, she has to find Sherlock by herself."

Suzanne took her face away from the door. She dropped her crutches and ran for it. She ran. She heard gun shots behind her as she ran for cover. Back to the London streets again.

All Suzanne knew was that she never saw Mycroft again.

*?, Suzanne, ?*

And now she was alone again. She was on her own. Again. All the things that happened in her life negatively were down to her. She had kept in the shadows never daring to move. Walking in the rain, in the cold. Her homing instincts were drawing her close. But it didn't have a map.

It was night as she walked onto her fiftieth street. There was no one on the street. She limped on a little. Her eyes down, she turned the corner, she shivered to a stop when a cold wind blew against her tank top.

She bent down to try and fix the now worn out sandals that Mycroft had given to her.

She heard voices she dived into the bushes. Her blood turned cold when she heard voices:

"Shouldn't we both grow up and admit the facts to each other? We were made for each other."

Irene Adler. She began to shake she had found her. She was a few meters away though. Was she even looking at her. She sat down going into some garden bushes for cover.

Her breathing stopped.

She broke out into a cold sweat.

Her bruised skin began to shake.

She felt sick.

Sherlock.

He walked out behind her. She heard him gulp a little.

What was he…?

They kissed. Irene and Sherlock kissed.

It lasted for an age.

I'll see you tomorrow Sherlock." She whispered. Before kissing his cheek.

Hot tears went down her eyes and cheeks. She gasped a little. Sherlock…had kissed another woman…that was enough to give her a kick in the teeth…the fact it was Irene Adler…was enough to put the final nail in the coffin.

The door closed. Suzanne sat there for a long time. Irene pasted her…but she didn't see her.

She tried to get up but she just threw up. She looked up hot tears down her cheeks, drool dribbling down her mouth. She heard a gun load beside her head.

"Move an inch and I'll blow your head in."

Packham.

She had been so close.

*?, Suzanne, ?*

They lead her to a truck. She didn't struggle when he pushed her down and beat her, slipping hard cold handcuffs onto her wrists. Before she was being walked.

She looked up, tears still falling.

The car stopped the door opened.

Irene smirked as she walked into the dark room. She turned on the table lamp that sat in the middle of the table.

"Welcome back." She smirked.

Suzanne sat up immediately upon hearing the noise. Tears streaming down her face.

"Down girl" smirked Moriarty. To Irene. "I understand you have been a very bad girl. Suzanne. Well the good news is that we will not be going back to base in your cell. It's moving day."

He smirked before walking out.

Irene turned to her "I told you so." She smirked before walking out. "I'll stretch my legs if I was you. You have a long journey ahead of you."

Suzanne stood up wincing before limping after her outside. She stretched.

What was she going to do now? Heading back to Sherlock….Being with him….That was the only thing that kept her alive. What was she going to do now?

She heard a gun being loaded, she turned. She felt three men with ammunition behind her. Ready to fire.

Three shots rang out.

She fell down.

"Was I Drugged….Of…course?..." she murmured to herself as she felt the blood dribbling down her chest and guts.

She then closed her eyes.

It was her time to go.

Go into the darkness once again.

…..

Please Review.


	9. A Grand Day Out

!

Thank You: Terrorist Of The Seven Seas and ALICExRxH! YOU GUYS ROCK!

Chapter Nine: A Grand Day Out

*07:12 Monday, Sherlock, dining table by the window*

Sherlock was listening to the PC as he looked back on the events on last night. He had kissed Irene. He shrugged to himself as he heard the recording again.

It said_: "You may be gay you may be straight,_

_But this will always be your fate:_

_You'll never get past the gate less gate."_

Sherlock sat still, thinking about the clue that he had been given by Moriarty to find out the phone killers. May he be gay or straight he'll never get past the gateless gate. What gate? He thought. His mind wrapped around the puzzle and Irene.

He hadn't thought of little else, apart from when he kissed Irene. He didn't really know what it meant. He thought he did but he didn't. His brain wasn't meant to consider questions like this and it was stopping him from getting to the important matters at hand like who and where was the phone killer. He groaned holding his head in both hands.

He listened to the clue one more time. See what difference it made.

"_You may be gay you may be straight,_

_But this will always be your fate:_

_You'll never get past the gate less gate."_

Gate….Gate to what…That was the important part of the poem that held the clue. The other lines were to make the last line sound clever, and contribute to Moriarty's flirting to him. He rubbed the back of his head. He'd usually have a whole wall of ideas, but not today. Today his mind was wrestling with his own feelings.

To what cause? He kissed her. End of story. Did it change anything? NO! so why was he having such a hard time. Could it be guilt? What a load of- Why would his inner self be stopping him? Did the universe really hating him THAT much?

He groaned again the same problems going around his head and the same solutions hadn't occurred.

John walked into the room, smiling his naïve smile. "You had a late night?" he asked mistaking Sherlock's inner debate to be something as trivial as a _hangover_.

Sherlock growled menacingly but John obviously didn't hear it.

"Guess what Sherlock, last night I was talking to Sarah (cue groan from Sherlock) and between us we came up with a brilliant idea!"

Sherlock didn't even look up he was getting himself ready to be pleasantly disappointed.

"Look me made a poster" John said defiantly serious, waving something in front of Sherlock's head.

Sherlock dared to look up.

John and…Sarah had made a lost poster for Suzanne. They had used Sherlock's photo that he had torn up (on the photo copy of the photo Sherlock saw the picture had been taped back together), around it there was the title in bold: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN? In red ink too.

"John what are you doing?" asked Sherlock in an almost sarcastic way.

"I've made a lost poster for Suzanne."

"What the Hell for?"

"Well it isn't rocket science Sherlock, it isn't for her birthday or for my good health, it's because she is lost."

"She's DEAD John."

"And HERE we go again. I knew you weren't going to be THRILLED with my idea but to not even give her a chance is very LOW even for you."

"She's. is. Dead. John. What more do you want!"

"Why do you think she's dead? Come on let's hear it! Let us continue unravelling Sherlock's walls he has put around himself. Let us continue where we left off."

"What are you? My councillor?"

"No your friend."

Sherlock growled a little to himself he didn't want a re-run of last night's performance.

John looked away holding his eyes. He turned back to Sherlock trying a different approach. He let out a small laugh.

"What?"

"Well" he said massaging his head a little. "when I was young. I lost my mother."

Sherlock said nothing.

John looked up a little, blinking hard at the memory his smile still on his face. "you know when I was younger-I couldn't have been older than fourteen-I used to pray that she was alive. Somehow, someway she had lived and she was hiding from us or she was on a long holiday."

He looked at his friend the consulting detective, who kept his face completely stony showing no remorse or emotion.

"And what I don't get about you Sherlock is…You get a chance of a life time. Someone who you love is alive and well and out there. Probably frightened, alone and scared at what might happen to her, and you are throwing this chance right back at her face. You might as well spit at her, the way you have given up on her. She needs you Sherlock. She needs you to be a man and find her. Rescue her. You can cry all you want about how she lied to you, how she ran away from you, and how she hurt you. But say it her face, and not to her ghost, so pull yourself together and clean up your act. Because you don't have much more time before this chance will be gone forever. And you'd have only yourself to blame."

Sherlock had been looking away his jaw so tense that it looked like he would crack his own teeth. He kept blinking too. John wondered whether he was trying to keep himself in one piece or he was trying to take everything he was saying in. John looked away shaking his head, he turned back to Sherlock.

"I know you are scared. That I can understand, but please Sherlock do not pretend that this has anything to do with the details that she might be still alive. She fell in love with you. She might be as scared as you are. You two will and can work. Or do you still want to live with your stupid pride?"

Sherlock stood up grabbing his coat on the way out. He didn't want to hear this.

"Please Sherlock. I'm only going to say this again ONCE" John shouted standing up from his chair. Sherlock stopped and turned to him (while doing up his coat). "please…Don't do anything you are going to regret."

Sherlock looked at him, John looked back at him. Sherlock was the first to break the gaze. He looked down then he went to the door.

Opened it.

And slammed it.

John looked away holding his head. He looked at the poster he and Sarah made. He tore it in half.

*07:34, Sherlock, walking down the street*

Sherlock huffily walked (and pushed) through the early morning crowds of people walking to and throw their useless lives.

"You didn't call for me" said a voice behind him.

Sherlock turned to see Irene Adler. She was wearing knee length boots that showed off her long legs. Her skirt today was a not too tight so she looked too young and not too baggy so she didn't look too old, accessory that was a black piece of fashion that went down to just over her knees, her long black duffle coat (that went to the middle of her knees) wasn't done up so it showed her skirt and top. (It didn't show her immaculate figure but we'll let it go). Her top was black too but (unlike Suzanne's) it looked just as much as a statement than if she was wearing a poker dot purple and tangerine sleeveless silk gown. Her hair was done up into a top knot, so it showed off her slender neck. Her lip stick today was the same ruby red she had worn the day they met. Her eyes as usual were all the colour they needed so no eye shadow was slapped on. Instead delicate mascara had been painted onto her lashes making her eyes look like a piece of jewellery and not an (almost) imperfect human beings eye.

Sherlock gave her a glance before carrying on walking.

"Where to?" she asked matching his pace.

"I'M going to think in a place I can think in piece. Anyway I thought I told you that there was no need for your services anymore."

"Was that before or after you kissed me?"

"Before. But I cannot see how that fact changes anything."

"Sherlock Holmes it changes everything."

Sherlock didn't even look at her.

"Well I'm helping you whether you like it or not. So grow a pair and live with it." She said letting go of him.

Sherlock gave her a bone freezing frown. But carried on walking her trotting beside him.

"Well now we've gotten that out of the way. Good morning." She smirked in her own self-confident way.

*07:46, Irene and Sherlock, Black Cab*

Irene and Sherlock sat side by side in a black cab. Sherlock had gone back to his sub-zero heat and was looking out the window his mind still doggedly back on trying to solve the puzzle. Irene sat beside unusually patiently waiting for him to tell her.

Sherlock at last sighed "Well it looks like there is not use trying to hide anything from you."

Irene smirked at him.

"The clue is: "You may be gay you may be straight, but you'll never get past the gateless gate."

Irene took out her IPhone and began to type around. Sherlock flared his nostrils hating the fact she had more technology than he and she thought of it before him.

Sherlock looked out of the window his brains going through all of his knowledge with a fine comb, trying to find a piece of knowledge that would blow the case wide open. He at last smirked.

"Heathrow."

"What?" 

"Heathrow is the largest airport in London and England, which has an impressive safety management. If you're trying to get on board a plane with something you shouldn't then you'll never get past the gate. Also in the paper this morning it spoke of a whole suitcase being stuffed full of raw bomb explosives."

Irene looked back to her screen pouting a little that he came up with the solution before her. "Is that experience talking, have you been carrying something you shouldn't?" she asked moodily.

"I'd be lying if I said no."

She smirked at him, seductively. She kissed his cheek. Smiling a little to herself.

*08:34, Sherlock and Irene, Heathrow airport safety management desk*

Sherlock and Irene walked boldly up to the front desk where a man was eating his breakfast bagel. He immediately stood when he saw Irene and Sherlock walk up to him.

Irene pulled out her fake badge holding it up to him, "me and my assistant have come to look at the suitcase bomb."

"Assistant" murmured Sherlock to Irene as the security officer looked over her credentials and waffled on how these things where simply not done.

"would you rather be my boyfriend" Irene murmured back to him.

"But" Irene said louder flashing her green eyes at the man, "Your superior and work college…"

"Charlton" Sherlock cut in.

"Told us we had to pick up the suitcase here, and well after all if we know the pattern of these bomb sightings then well we can easily stop them quickly and efficiently."

The block gulped the last of his bagel down as he gave them a key murmuring how to open the holding cell.

Irene and Sherlock walked to the safe door, smirking to one and another. Their two tall shadows that was against the wall looked like one person.

They opened the safe and looked in. In the middle of the room sat a large brown suit case. Sherlock walked up to it slowly. Irene caught his wrist and walked in front of him. When they did come to the suitcase they kneeled down to look at it.

It had belonged to a woman late twenties early thirties. The dull green brown showed little taste in style. It was very small to hold all of someone's clothes either they were in no need of many clothes, had little clothes or this was alongside more cases. He doubted the last one for then all of the woman's cases would be in here.

Sherlock and Irene looked up from their analysing. "What did you get?" asked Irene.

"Not much. Nothing important anyway."

"We should open the thing." Irene sighed snapping on a pair of rubber gloves.

Sherlock mirrored her action. He had to be careful, maybe if he opened the damn case could cause it to take the building with it. He lay flat as he began to snap the safety buckles off of the case. He opened it carefully.

They looked in, both of the detective faces fell when they what was inside. A dark blue velvet beanie baby elephant. Sherlock picked up the elephant a question mark on his lips. This was mistaken for a bomb. There was nothing else inside the suitcase apart from the note saying:

"_Peanut the elephant walks on tip-toes_

_Quietly sneaking wherever she goes_

_She'll sneak up on you and a hug You will get_

_Peanut is a friend you won't soon forget!"_

Sherlock looked at the blue elephant again. The skin was made of real velvet in a royal blue shade, apart from the ears which was a pearl pink. The tag by his ear had the normal conventional logo Ty, but it was a silver colour unlike the traditional red. On the inside there read the name "Peanut".

Sherlock looked again at the letter. Bombs? Where? Was it a malfunction in the safety system? He pocketed the toy even so. And the note. He looked at the case inside and out to look for a secret compartment where the real explosives could be. He found none. But when he flipped the case over he saw a name written under the suitcase in crooked yet readable letters:

**SuzAnnE**

Sherlock stared at the words. It couldn't be his Suzanne. It must have been another. He stood up and walked out of the room. Irene had to move fast otherwise she would be locked out.

*08:56, Sherlock and Irene, Heathrow Café*

Irene sipped her coffee as Sherlock frowned into space in deep thought while his thumbs used his phone to try to track down the connection of a toy to a bomb in a suitcase which connected to phone killings.

Irene picked up the toy and looked it over. "Why would the guy give us a toy it wouldn't make sense. A Beanie Baby? Come on I've seen millions of them I can buy a replica of this easily in the toy shop down the corridor."

"Not this one you couldn't."

"What?" 

"A lighter version yes, but not in this shade."

Sherlock turned his mobile to her to show a picture of the elephant. "Peanut the elephant in this shade is the rarest beanie babies of all time. There is only four to be known to exist. You'd have to have a big bank account to try to buy her."

"How much?"

"On average by my sources. Sixteen grand."

Irene parted her perfect shiny lips to let out a low whistle. She picked up the elephant, then looked at the clue. Sherlock looked back at his phone.

"What if it is a fake?"

"Trust me it's not."

Irene growled a little that her views would be thrown away by a waving hand.

Sherlock smirked suddenly he got out his letter knife he used to open letters, he stabbed right into the toy. Irene sighed obviously wanting to pick at him for stabbing six grand in the chest.

Sherlock emptied the toy so little pieces of metal: screws, lights, wires and a reactor of some sort fell out onto the table before them. Ah so THIS was the bomb. Or the raw materials to make a bomb.

"What does this mean" muttered Sherlock. "How was this connected to our phones." He picked up his mobile, typing away with it.

Irene had beaten him to it though. She put her phone down. On it showed all of the factories of London. Toy Land factor stood right next to the T Mobile factory on the south end of the river. "I sense foul play here" she smirked.

Sherlock grinned at her.

*10:24, Sherlock and Irene, Toy Land factory*

Sherlock and Irene where dressed up in an outfit that was the common outfit for an inspector. Sherlock wore his normal dark blue coat but it was done up tightly that he couldn't breathe probably. Irene was wearing a pencil skirt with a white jumper (a black woollen sweater over it too), she also held glasses over her nose which didn't seem to undo the colour of her eyes at all. In fact it enhanced them.

They walked to the front desk, both looking grim. "Hello" Irene said in her VERY British accent. "We are the inspection team."

The woman looked up, she was easily in her early twenties with half-moon spectacles was secured on her nose and very nervous looking as she pushed the blonde hair out of her eyes. "But" she said timidly. First day on the job, it was so obvious. "You…You haven't been booked until Wednesday…Wait that was last week. Oh dear."

"We are the surprise team. We come when you least expect. And there have been several complaints about your produce, work ethic. Noise."

"Noise….But the machines are quite silent."

"Are you questioning us?"

"No….No…." The woman said, having the exact same response to if you held her pigtails under a burning flame. Terrified.

"Very well we'll let ourselves in."

"WAIT!" she shouted (well a shout for her).

They walked into the main factory. Sherlock had to hand it to Irene she could act and change her voice with incredible ease. They walked into a room of lockers either side of a wall with a picture of a brand of toys. Sherlock and Irene looked at each other then, one went to the left hand side, where as the other went to the right hand side. It was an almost completion for themselves to see who can find the clue first.

Sherlock opened his first locker. Monkeys, he stabbed his knife into one. Little beads came out but no pieces of metal.

Irene opened her locker. Rainbow bears with wings she slashed every one of them. Nothing.

"I sense a theme coming out" she smirked to Sherlock.

He had taken off his shirt and rolled up his sleeves while opening a locker full of tigers.

*Two hours later*

Sherlock and Irene had finished slashing all of the toys. They had put a chair against the door handle to stop the secretary from sniffing about where she certainly wasn't wanted. Sherlock was pacing around the storage room the once spotless floor but now was covered in little plastic beans and material bears.

Irene was sitting close legged on the chair her brow furrowed. She took out the card and examined it. Sherlock stood against the wall a frown on his forehead his fingertips together, thinking as hard as he could. No way was Moriarty going to let his game come to a stop. There had to be more to this than met the eyes. He thought it through again.

"_Peanut the elephant walks on tip-toes_

_Quietly sneaking wherever she goes_

_She'll sneak up on you and a hug You will get_

_Peanut is a friend you won't soon forget!"_

Was the elephant more than a vessel to hold the real clue. What if it was the clue. A metaphor. Walks on tip-toes, quietly sneaking, sneak up on you, a friend that you will never forget. Was there really foul play in the mobile companies. Moriarty was a force of his own, his name would keep everyone who mattered quiet, was this how he brought the phones through? Having toys bring the faulty equipment with them to rig the phones…Why?

Why was Moriarty keeping the country on tender hooks on who would be murdered next? Why was he letting Sherlock find him? Sherlock didn't have to look far for an answer. Fun. Moriarty needed a distraction, he needed a minor crisis to occur to the British people, and because he thought it be fun. Sherlock, looked around the room one more time.

His eyes went onto Irene's legs. Not because he found them arousing, but because her skirt was being flapped a little by the wind. What wind from where? He smirked a little as he walked over to her:

"If you could be obliged to move then that would be most helpful."

Irene shot him a glare but she quickly stood up and walked huffily to the other end of the room.

Sherlock went down onto his knees his fingers running over the edges. There was some cold air coming in through the cracks. He slide his fingers through feeling the sudden cold air through his nails. He pulled one of the boards up to show a hole. Three more pieces of wood was pulled up and then laid down in a pile beside the door, to help barricade it.

He smirked at Irene, she cocked her head to one side "not bad" she said thoughtfully. She sat down beside him "after you" she said flirtatiously. He smirked at her before he slide down. She slide through too. "Clever you" she said smartly before getting out her lighter for a light.

Sherlock turned on the light switch by the wall. He was on a role.

She raised an eyebrow but then flipped it shut.

*10:36, Sherlock and Irene, Walking through the cellar*

They walked side by side as they walked through the narrow corridor to the main room, the one blinking light bulb was their only source of light.

"Well isn't this cosy" Irene smirked to him.

Sherlock looked at her, but then looked straight ahead.

"Oh and by the way. What's with the sudden coldness to me? It was just last night that you kissed me wasn't it?"

Sherlock cleared his throat "I just want you to know I'm married to my work and I don't need a relationship."

"Who wants a relationship? I just want to know why your suddenly gone all bashful."

Sherlock smirked. But inside it was a different story, he didn't know what it meant but he felt so twisted up inside, his feelings no longer gathering dust and cobwebs were having a party. He didn't understand anything anymore, he had kissed her, but that was all it was a kiss. There was no way he could…There was no way he could love anyone. The same problems went around and around his head. He could only come to one conclusion: he didn't love this woman. He could lust over her all he wanted but love wasn't going to come into the equation. Ever.

They at last came to the underground store room. There were completely different toys in this room. Sherlock made an educated guess that these where all rare beanie babies. So this was the pattern. The rare ones which nobody could buy was stuffed full of bombs then to be shipped next door into mobile phones to be made into mini bombs. Sherlock ripped a head off of Nana the Monkey and took a picture of little pieces of machinery. Evidence.

Irene began to open lockers all around the room, some held machinery others held the toys. There was five lockers in the room by the back wall they were both numbered. Irene opened the second locker for a surprise…There was a green coat hanging up.

"That's new" she murmured.

Sherlock turned to look at what she was referring to. He saw the coat on the hanger immediately. He immediately knew who it belonged to. He looked away trying to be rational. He then reached out and took it off of the hanger, he put his hand through the coat pocket, and there was nothing apart from a piece of paper. The final clue.

"_You cannot escape your fate,_

_You may be too late,_

_Don't make me wait,_

_I decided to let it all end tonight,_

_This is the last rhyme and clue now,_

_I'm getting bored of this rhyming lark anyhow."_

"What does it mean?" asked Irene. Sherlock picked up the coat and walk to the exit. "Sherlock" she called "Don't go personal!"

Sherlock through her a text from his phone telling her that she had to look into where all of the mobile parts came from, and to try to arrest as many people as she could.

He had to do something on his own.

*10:56, Sherlock, Black cab*

Sherlock examined the coat again, it was just as he had remembered. Lime green in colour made from a cottony, acrylic and cashmere material. The buttons was a dark brown with poppers under the seems to give the person a more secure feeling. The collars were still unravelling slightly. The only thing that made him nervous was the specs of mud that was on the sides of the coat. She loved this coat, she must have sent it to the dry cleaners once a week, and she hate to think that it was going dirty. She wouldn't let it get dirty.

He sat back, he had already thought that phone call to Sophie was fake. But he had to check on the tape she had given him, and when she did come to this country. He looked out of the window. She came into this country around March 5th. If he could just track her down. Then what? Dash up to her foil the bad guy like he was some kind of a hero? No way. He wasn't going to do that.

But he soon found himself scooping up her tape and the phone call tape. Shoving them into his pockets and signalling a cab to take him to the nerve centre of all London cameras.

*12:46, Sherlock, Laboratory*

Sherlock listened to the two tapes back to back, one was telling lies and the other was telling the truth. If he could just have one up to Moriarty then he'd know where to start his search. The one in his scarf was the most incriminating, Suzanne sounded like she normally did and gave him a few good threats for good measures. The other tape didn't add up, it held a very good voice of Suzanne but she wouldn't back down to her sister that easily, especially since Moriarty was involved. But still it was found on a body that held Moriarty's lap top.

He listened to the first tape again.

_"I'd thought you'd figure it out._

_I knew you would._

_Now listen up Sherlock!_

_You better have a damn good reason why you haven't responded to any of my letters._

_Ok!_

*sound of people shouting and singing rang out*

_*sigh* enough about that. I know what you think…_

Wait a minute….

He rewound.

_You better have a damn good reason why you haven't responded to any of my letters._

_Ok!_

*sound of people shouting and singing rang out*

_*sigh* enough about that. I know what you think…_

What where the people in the background shouting and singing. He rewound to the tape and pressed his ear against the speaker.

"_OK"_

"_A NEW DAWN IT'S A NEW DAY! HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!" (there was a lot more but I have no mind to say it)_

Sherlock looked up stopping the tape. New Year? She came into Britain in the new year? It was worse than he thought. She had to be dead now. No way could she make it, she had to have been missing for three months, he nearly didn't survive three minutes with Moriarty and his plan.

Then again if there was any person he knew to hang on and bloody survive it was Suzanne.

He frowned, John was right. Suzanne needed him, he could complain later. She needed him, and he was way overdue.

He grabbed his lap top and hacked into security cameras near London Euro star entrances. It wasn't locked in any sufficient way. He looked for the arrivals. At last at eleven fifty five a train came in, he saw a woman nervously tape her stick around looking for the exit. She was suddenly stopped by something she stared around she dumped her suitcase and ran for it.

It was the hardest thing in the world for Sherlock to simply sit there and watch Suzanne get drugged, strangled, and collapse. He watched Moriarty stand there as Suzanne slowed down to no movement. He then saw another figure come out of the shadows and walk up next to Moriarty.

Sherlock sat back pausing the tape.

He got up determinedly and walked out of the building wanting one thing.

Revenge.

*02:30, Irene (and Sherlock), London Imports Room*

Irene shifted through the crates of are Beanie baby toys, she scooped up one before she ripped it open. She smirked a little picking up a lobster and wrenching out a control out of it.

"Well, well what have you found."

Irene turned frightened but then smirked "Sherlock" she smirked suddenly relieved. She threw the control back into crate. She smiled sweetly. She walked over to him. But then stopped she looked at Sherlock's dark frown. "Sherlock?" she asked her eye brow raised.

Sherlock said nothing he held up the tape recorder and switched it on.

_Ring…Ring…Ring…Ring…_

_Beep…_

_"…Hello this is Sophie?"_

_"Hey sis! It's me!"_

_"Suzanne! Oh My God! How are you? You haven't called in a while!"_

_"Well I've been working on a case here in Paris…Talk about the French connection! Who had thought they think murder is an art here! Well how have you been?"_

He stopped the tape. "Quite an achievement." He said throwing the recorder back to her. "I knew you were talented Ms Adler, if that is your real name, but impersonating a voice to such lengths that even I was fooled. That is an achievement."

"Sherlock, what are you-"

"How stupid do you think I am? How long do you think I would not figure it out. Or do you think I'm as stupid as you?"

"Sherlock-"

"How long have you been working for Moriarty."

She let out a laugh.

"What's so funny? How long have you been working for Moriarty."

She grinned her eyes suddenly dark, "You assume that Sherlock I'm working for Moriarty" she said her voice suddenly holding a broad American accent.

Sherlock turned his head back a little.

"Nothing? Nothing at all? I've employed Moriarty. I would have thought you'd be impressed."

Sherlock growled a little. He let her kiss him. "Did you start the phone scandals?"

"No that little touch of the plan was Jim's inspiration. It was a trap for Suz-"

"Don't say her name" he snapped.

She smirked a little, her deep green snake eyes contributed to her white fangs. "very well Sherlock, everything was a trap for you and her." She said beginning to circle him.

Sherlock walked in a circle matching her stride for stride. "Why did you do it. People have been dying."

She yawned. "And here I thought you'd be a lot more interested." Her eyes flickered back to his face "I needed to get her interested, then make sure you'd get interested."

"Why? What was so bad that you had to kill many people. What point did you want to make?"

"Revenge."

Sherlock breathed through his nose stopping. "What have I supposed to have done."

"Not you her?"

"What has she done?"

"Killed my lover."

"She wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Well…She didn't shot him, she didn't stab him with a knife. But he might as well be dead. He's in a strait jacket and in a sponge cell until the day the court hangs him."

Sherlock frowned he then looked away sighing rubbing his eyes "you were Wayne Miles' lover." 

"Fiancé if you must know."

"He was a mad man."

"I didn't say I loved him. I just said we were engaged."

"You were after his power? That's quite shallow of you."

"Think of it like you would, but she destroyed my life."

"So you destroyed hers."

"Brilliant isn't it? Hurting her was so easy! Getting to you was emotionally crippling enough but thinking of new tortures for her every day was almost like Christmas had come again. And hurting you was also a good feeling too."

Sherlock growled at her, he suddenly grabbed her and punched her. He didn't care anymore. He threw her against the crates. She leapt at him slapping him hard in the face, her long nails scratching his cheek. He hit her again in the face before handcuffing her to the crate.

"Right are we going to do this the easy way? Or the hard way?" Sherlock growled down at her. "Tell me one thing. Where is Suzanne?"

At that point three things occurred.

The first thing was that Mycroft awoke in hospital. John was sitting by his bedside with Sarah talking about wedding plans and trying to tell one line jokes with each other. Mycroft let out a splutter then a gasp as he opened his eyes.

"GET A NURSE NOW" shouted John as Mycroft began to choke. Sarah ran from the room as John held Mycroft's hand as he became more conscious.

"Sherlock" he gasped between chocks.

Another thing that happened was that Suzanne woke up on a chair.

"I'm still alive" she murmured a little cracking her neck.

"Not for much longer my dear" muttered Moriarty close to her face.

She jumped, a little her eyes wide with fright and tears.

The last thing that happened in that direct second was Irene answered.

She smirked a little before answering her old voice and stunning eyes.

"2.2.1.B. Baker street."

Sherlock stared at her, his eyes wide. 221 B Baker street. His 221 B Baker Street.

He ran for the exit. She wasn't going anywhere. He had to get home. It could be a trap. He didn't care. Suzanne was going to die. He knew it.

"Don't go Sherlock. You might not like what you find."

Sherlock looked back at her. Then he sniffed. He didn't care.

Then at that second something else happened.

221 B Baker Street blew up.

**REVIEW PLEASE!**


	10. Stay With Me

!

Thank you: KittyKatZorse, ALICExRxH, I AM RICHARD-looking for group, musik-stew and firessflareon! YOU ARE REALLY GREAT THIS IS THE MOST AMOUNT OF REVIEWS I'VE EVA GOT! ALL IN ALL I'M A LUCKY GIRL!

Chapter Ten: Stay With Me

*06:50, Sherlock, A Black cab*

Sherlock sat in the cab. He sat there full of beans, he waited his hands shaking. Damn these road works. He was five minutes away from 221B Baker Street, yet there was some sort of accident or mishap that was causing a huge traffic jam. Sherlock blinked a little, his hands together while he rested his face on it. He had never felt so nervous.

He didn't love Irene. He never had. Their kiss together was almost something they expected of each other. He had figured out why he couldn't have thought little else after he kissed Irene and he felt so awful. He had felt guilty. He still loved Suzanne, he had never admitted it to her or told another soul but he had. And he still did.

He looked up from his thoughts to look out of the front window. He jumped at what he saw. Thick black smoke. 'Don't come from the left' he silently begged. He opened his window and poked his head out. The smoke was coming from the left hand corner. He jumped out of the car and ran through the traffic weaving in and out of the traffic. He ran as fast as he could, nearly getting run over and arrested twice until at last he made it to his street. He stopped.

Smoke was flooding from his apartment.

It was on fire. The window where (a life time ago) he had swung from had flames bursting through it. He stopped his heart stopping along with his feet. His breathing became more ragged as he pushed his way through the crowd of people and at last through the police men. The fire men hadn't yet arrived but some police men had opened up a sewer pipe and was spraying the flames with the best of their abilities. The fire was too strong though.

John and Sarah was talking to some police officers (consisting of Lestrade and Anderson) about details like the house and what it means. John turned to him "Sherlock!" he shouted "why don't you ever turn on your phone? It's Mycroft he…"

"John she's in there."

"What? Who?"

"Suzanne. Trust me on this she's in there."

"Sher-"

Sherlock tried to run but John grabbed him.

"Sherlock let's be rational. The fire department will get her out."

"She's in there."

"IF she is so let the fire department do their job and get her out instead."

"No. NO Last time I did that I regretted it for the rest of my life."

"SHERLOCK! NO!" shouted John grabbing Sherlock's arm, "LET THE POLICE DEAL WITH IT!"

Sherlock tried to wrench his arm away from the doctor. Another bang blew out the glass in the windows. Shattering the glass, along with Sherlock's patience.

Sherlock hit John in the mouth with such force that he spun around on the spot before falling flat on the pavement. Sherlock wasn't even thinking properly, he hadn't even yet to compute what was going on. Sarah ran over to John trying to help him up. Sherlock ran to the door and ran through it. He knew it was stupid. He knew there was a million dangers. He knew this could be a subtle trap by Moriarty to try to get Sherlock to kill himself, while he tried like a mad man to find a woman that could no longer be.

But….He didn't know what it was. It was almost like he was a magnet, almost. And he was so close to another magnet that he was being pulled by a will that did not belong to him to the other.

Sherlock closed his eyes trying to get his logical and deductive mind set back. He looked around the corridor and the stair case, the upper floors to the right was on fire the lower floors and the left of the house was just escaping the blaze. The explosion originated from the upper floors right hand floors near the front of the house. If she was being held in Mrs Hudson's flat or the basement then she'd have a chance.

If not….Well he better not think about it.

He opened cupboards and doors in Mrs Hudson's flat looking for Suzanne all the time calling her name. There was crackles and bangs from the foundation of the house falling apart. But he had so much adrenaline he didn't even stop to consider his own safety. He only became more frantic when he heard the fire cracking on the ceiling, and the wood and bricks from above beginning to fall. He even felt his hair catching on fire.

The smoke began to flood from the walls too. He didn't have his scarf but he found one of Mrs Hudson's ridiculous silk scarfs to protect his lungs for a while longer. The house didn't have much left in it but he was NOT going to let her die in such a way as this.

He opened the basement, hitting the padlock away with one of the bricks that had fallen down. He ran down the steps two at a time nearly falling over twice, smoke hadn't yet found its way down to the lower levels so he tore off the scarf that was around his face and mouth. He looked around the basement.

Nothing. He looked away.

She wasn't here.

It was a trap.

He began to walk slowly away to the door, and then to his front door. He put the scarf around his mouth tightly with frustration. He looked down at the floor as he walked on. She was gone. She wasn't here; he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Suddenly, over the crackle of the fire and the odd low thump of bricks and pieces of wood and other furniture, came a loud thump. Sherlock wouldn't have normally thought much of this, but the sound sounded like somebodies' body had slammed down onto his floor, and then their legs and joints had fallen with them but a beat after the first impact. There came more bangs.

His breath caught in his throat.

That had to be her she had to be upstairs.

The stair case was right in front of him. He took the banister in his right hand. He looked up at the fire, it was raging above him, and the right hand side of the house was nearly gone. It was making its way to the left hand of the house, where the bangs came from. Sherlock turned to the door, he had about ten minute's tops before both the stair case and the door was gone. Here goes.

He ran up the stairs making far too much noise. His left hand gripped the burning banister for speed and control, his right hand held the scarf tightly around his nose. He nearly tripped on a piece on wood on the stairs but he kept on.

Sherlock at last mounted the last stair and looked around the burning flat. His eyes hurt from the ash as his eyes darted around the room. Sherlock rubbed them furiously with the back of his hand. He stepped into his living room as the roof and the walls began to catch on fire around him.

Sherlock walked to the sofa where he had often sulked at and where she had once slept on. He bent down picking up a sock of his, which he'd flung onto the floor in a strop a few days ago; there was a drop of blood on it. That had certainly not appeared before.

Could it have been from…Her…?

He heard a sound behind him.

His head turned instantly.

She was standing there a couple of feet away.

He wondered how long she had been there. Just looking at him. Like she could see.

He barely knew what he was seeing.

He stood slowly.

He didn't know whether he should grin, burst into tears or scream at her.

For Suzanne Miles was standing right in front of him a mere few feet away.

*One Hour ago, Suzanne, Sherlock's flat*

_Suzanne groaned, as she lay back in her chair. She had just woken up, she had been violently drugged in that field. As usual her nose went into full gear first, she could smell the scent of something familiar something that made her feel safe her brain was a little bit slow tonight for she didn't pick up where she was held straight away._

_Yet she had dreamed of little else when she was in her cell._

_She groaned as her one good ear began to take notes of what was going on. She could hear a person breathing a few feet away from her. She sat up a little she suddenly knew where she was._

_Had she been that out of it not to know this was in 221B Baker Street?_

_She bare feet was on the carpet. she was on a chair of some sort, she didn't seem bound to it in anyway. She felt something tight around her waist. She groggily put her hand on it; it seemed to be a sort of duck tap. In the middle of the tap was one of her bombs. She could feel it was on because of the buzzing of the electricity. She rubbed her eyes again._

"_I'm alive" she murmured her memories of the field just beginning to hit her, cracking her neck to get rid of the stiffness._

"_Not for much longer my dear" muttered Moriarty close to her face._

_She jumped, a little her eyes wide with fright and tears._

"_Welcome back, I missed you for that week" sneered a voice; she knew all too well, "I take it you had a good nap."_

_She tried to get up but she was grabbed from behind by the shoulders and slammed back down onto the chair._

"_Do you really think I'd let you go crawling back to London. You're so stupid if I thought I'd let you get to Sherlock Holmes. Let you put your dirty hands on him."_

_Suzanne looked up at Moriarty, he was standing right in front of her. Behind her seemed to be a guard of some sort. Typical Moriarty, he never got his hands dirty, even if it meant taking away the initial atmosphere with another idiot breathing behind her and acting as a third party._

_Her eyes slowly looked down "I can scream for help."_

"_Go on then."_

_Suzanne opened her mouth to scream. She had forgotten about the guy behind her. She had forgotten about his strong hands. He smacked his hand so hard onto her lips she could feel her teeth rattle._

_She tried to kick him, but she had forgotten about Moriarty. He gave her a good kick in the guts that winded her completely. She doubled over groaning holding her sides. _

_Packham laughed behind her. She closed her eyes, trying to get her dignity back again. _

"_look at you, just think I can do anything to you right now" smiled Moriarty, "but don't worry. I'm just going to kill you."_

_She looked up at him. That was it. They were going to kill her. Get to Sherlock once more, and get rid of her in one swoop. 221B Baker Street was a nice twist too. She couldn't let them; she didn't want to hurt Sherlock again. Who cared if she loved him? He could get hurt. She had to beg._

"_Please" she whispered looking up at him, with her large tear stained eyes._

"_Oh isn't it a little too early in the day to be begging? You haven't heard my wonderful plan yet" he said like a whiney child._

"_I think I've figured it out."_

"_Oh COME ON! Don't give me that!" he said going down to her level "we all know that you aren't as wonderful as people make you out to be."_

_She said nothing._

"_You've come close my dear, but let's be honest you'll never be like me or Sherlock. You're just *tut* not built for it. Because as much as you try to cover it up or replace it. You're blind. If I asked you what colour were my eyes, you could never answer."_

"_There have been worse faults."_

_She slapped her on the back of her head, and then he sat on a seat close to her and swung his legs onto her knees. "I like that about you. You're funny. I can tell from you right now that you have struggled to get people to see you for more than your disability. I and many other great minds where born with a silver spoon in our mouths you were born with a shovel crafted into you hand. Your life is covered with pain and hurt from others. Yet you keep quiet. Tense your jaw until you frown. Never say a word against your brother. Wayne."_

"_You're right. I never did complain. Because I thought I'd be dead before I could even finish."_

_Moriarty pursed his lips together in mock sympathy. "And now you are to die."_

"_I believe I am. Those bombs I've been making are what's around me."_

"_Oh only four the other seventy eight is in this house. Timed to go off in, oh, about fifty minutes."_

"_So this is the climax to your plot" she was still petrified but if she was to die._

"_YES!" he said clapping his hands like a kid at Christmas "oh it was WONDERFUL! Making you dance around after a "PHONE KILLER!" then capture you for three months until today. And the BEST part I did barely nothing."_

"_Irene did you dirty work for you?"_

"_She insisted. She is my client. She wanted to get back at you for killing your brother, so she devised this: while I kept you to myself doing anything I wanted to do with you. While she hurt you and Sherlock together by splitting you two up it was brilliant!"_

"_People will be looking for me. Even the debt collectors with the money I owe, will be looking for me."_

"_No they won't. Oh yes you don't know *HAH*, well: Mycroft you put in hospital with a coma, John Watson thinks you're dead, Sherlock is in love with Irene now so you can forget all about HIM…There was one more OH yes I remember: Sophie your step sister thinks you found out about her little secret."_

"_?"_

"_She didn't send your letters to Sherlock. She never has from day one. Sherlock thinks you're dead and has moved on. She then confided in me and I didn't see the point of telling you."_

_Suzanne looked down. Sherlock didn't know. _

_He might….Maybe he is….What if he….still cared about her…._

"_You'll never know" Moriarty chillingly reading her thoughts, "for this is when I kill you."_

_He grinned as he held up a remote. Seventy eight bombs in the swearers under 221B Baker Street wired into that one remote. That's going to vaporise the place._

_Suzanne rubbed her forehead to get the sweat from dripping down her head. She tried to grab the remote. Moriarty caught her wrist in an instance. He threw her to the floor, where Packham slammed his foot violently onto her hand. She silently screamed her fingers flexing out as her hand snapped in a number of places. Blood dribbled down._

"_You just don't learn do you Suzanne Miles? Don't you get it yet? I own you."_

_She looked into space miserably. She felt the boot coming off of her hand. _

_The last comment Moriarty sneered though…_

_She raised her head; she felt something on the ground next to her. She reached out her good hand as her fingers brushed against a piece of material. It couldn't be. Could it? She felt Sherlock's scarf just within her reach. _

_She reached out for it. _

_Her hand paused a couple of centimetres away. _

_Then she took it firmly in her hands._

_Something inside her snapped then: She had had enough._

"_No…" she murmured._

"_What?" asked Moriarty grinning._

"_You don't own me." Suzanne went onto her knees glaring at him. "I'm not yours I'm not Sherlock's. And I'm NOT letting you do this to me again."_

_Packham grabbed her by the back of her neck making her head glance up. "Miles. Do you remember what I'd say I'd do to you if I heard you talk to Moriarty like that again?" he shouted dangerously._

"_You said you'd kill me."_

"_And I will" he whispered in her ear._

"_AND I'LL KILL YOU RIGHT BACK" she shouted back at him "AND I MIGHT NOT BE MUCH OF A COMPETETOR BUT I'LL BE A _FANTASTIC _RUNNER UP!" She spat at him._

_Packham let her go._

_Suzanne slowly turned her head to him "What's the matter Packham? Cat got your tongue?"_

_She turned back to Moriarty "Sherlock is ten times the man you are." She murmured a little teary eyed "and do you know why? Not because he is smarter than all of you two miserable cowards put together but because he treats me like an equal, he is the only person who has not _trampled _on me. I'm a lot stronger than you say I am. And I let you beat me, treat me like an animal, and do things to me that makes me feel sick to even think of…And I let you…Because I was scared, because I thought that he didn't want me and he couldn't care less about me. Because you made me think that, but it's NOT TRUE! AND NOW YOU MADE ME LOSE HIM FOREVER! SO I DON'T _CARE _IF YOU PUNCH ME! IF YOU BEAT ME! IF YOU CUT ME! I JUST DON'T CARE ANYMORE! AND I DON'T HAVE TO BE PETTY OR SMALL OR INFERIOR TO YOU TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING! DON'T YOU SEE? You may have gotten my body back…But you'll never get to me: up here *she points to her brain*, because now I now know that you are nothing Moriarty but a coward…And a _BULLY_ because something did happen to me when I escaped_

….I am not frightened of you anymore_"_

"_Well I think you SHOULD" shouted Moriarty in his calm yet manic way._

_Suzanne looked up at him glaring with a thousand suns. It wasn't her Miles side, it wasn't her Suzanne side, and it was her own pure white rage. "Oh why is that" she snapped tears still streaming down, "is it because you're going to kill me? Well I'd rather be _DEAD _then walk through this world knowing what you've done to me so: GO ON THEN KILLL ME! COME ON! GIVE ME YOU'RE BEST SHOT YOU CRACK BRAINED SLAVE DIVER!"_

_Moriarty clapped his hands patronisingly. "Well that was very inspiring. Have you gone to the Shakespeare academy for acting my dear?" _

_Suzanne looked down holding her head tears falling from her eyes, her face was covered in Sherlock's scarf. She looked up laughing through her tears "You're _PATHETIC_. Because to switch on that remote you need GUTS. Something which you have never had. Never put yourself in the firing line. My brother Wayne maybe a lunatic but at least he treated his men equally."_

_Moriarty smirked "last chance." He held it in front of her face._

_Suzanne sneered at him "are you stupid? Are you really not listening to me? _**I'M NOT FRIGHTENED OF YOU ANYMORE!**_"_

_Moriarty chuckled as he held the remote in his hands and slammed the red button in the middle with all of his strength. Laughing like a lunatic._

_What happened next was a bit of a blur. Suzanne could only hear the loudest noise she had ever heard._

_She felt next like she was flying. Falling or flying to the left with all of her might. She smashed against the left wall groaning._

_She might have black out but she didn't know. All she knew when she started to remember again was that she was:_

_On her back._

_Her breaths came out in little gasps._

_The room felt and smelt like it was on fire._

_She felt the scarf in her hands tightly binding them together. The bomb around her waist hadn't gone off. Her insides would be painting the walls if it had._

_She leant against the wall groaning a little._

_She took a step forward. Another (but smaller) explosion rang out, she fell onto her back again, she held her body together, feeling it tremor and groan at the changes. She felt more fire coming towards her: "Oh God help me" she croaked trying to stand up again. She had to get up._

_Her head was still spinning yet she managed to stand chocking at the smoke. She fell again, but she kept getting up determinedly._

_Creak…_

…_.Creak…_

…_.Creakkkk._

_Someone was coming. She hid behind some pieces of wood and the upturned table. _

_It was a man. _

_Was wearing a long coat._

_Small delicate footsteps…_

"…_Sherlock…" she mouthed._

_He bent down looking at something._

_She stood up and walked towards him, she felt like she was walking on air. She stared at him. She felt suddenly scared look at her. She must look terrible. She didn't want him to see her like this. She tried to take a step back but that's when he turned to her._

*07:50, Sherlock and Suzanne, 221B Baker Street*

The two people both stared at each other. Suzanne in the light of the moon, Sherlock in the light of the sun's fire.

Suzanne took half a step back a little tear stained.

Sherlock moistened his lips.

Both couldn't believe what was in front of them.

Suzanne felt her good hand stretch out to touch him; she was too far away to reach his body or face. Sherlock caught her hand gently in his. Suzanne's bad hand loosened its grip and let his scarf fall.

They were a good five feet apart, but that was enough for them for the moment.

…Moment passed…

Sherlock in one movement pulled her into him.

Suzanne fell into his arms, her own instinctively circled around his neck, and her good hand shakily went against his left cheek.

Sherlock held her as close to him as possible, he had completely forgotten about his principles and pride and image. To hell with them.

Suzanne smiled up at him tears running down her grey eyes, her thumb running against his lips softly.

For one mad moment Sherlock was sure she was going to kiss him. But then she took her hand away and replaced them around his neck and buried her nose into his shoulder sniffing his scent contently.

Sherlock heard the stair case fall.

He didn't care.

He heard the door being barricaded with the rubble.

He didn't care

He could feel the heat of the fire on his back becoming hotter.

He didn't even batter an eyelash.

What did get his attention was a piece of wire going around his neck from behind.

Suzanne felt Sherlock let go of her and gage. She tipped her head to the side slightly trying to figure it out, letting him go. She then felt Packham laughing. She widened her eyes.

Sherlock gaged and gasped as the wire around his neck went into a chock hold. The man behind him, was a tall blond man with all of his teeth crammed into his mouth, he smiled as Sherlock tried to hit him.

Suzanne growled. Okay now this was her Miles side. She ran head long into Packham knocking him down; she then grabbed the wire out of his grasp pocketing it, before giving him a kick. Packham had stopped laughing. She assumed she knocked him out, she looked down at him he didn't seemed to be moving, she turned back to Sherlock who was chocking through the smoke and the near attempt on his life.

Suzanne went down to Sherlock her hand on him worriedly.

Packham suddenly grabbed her by the neck and began to chock her. She fell back trying to kick him or punch him. She knew that was too easy. Packham though knew her patterns he had had to fight her on numerous occasions and he dodged nearly all of her clumsy blows before she was running out of air and energy. Suzanne felt her chest pulsing, she had hit her wall.

Sherlock growled as he punched Packham right in the back of his head, Packham fell down nursing his head letting go of Suzanne who fell down onto the floor.

Sherlock savagely hit Packham again growling (things you don't want to hear in a T and I'm pretty sure the real Packham wouldn't be too impressed ^^).

Packham fell back slightly getting concussion. He went too far and smashed through Sherlock's front window.

There was a thud.

And then silence.

Sherlock immediately went to Suzanne expecting the worse. She was weakly sitting against the wall breathing into his scarf trying to get her breath back. Sherlock kneeled down to her looking at her. He saw the bomb strapped onto her waist.

"Are you alright?" he asked her trying to undo it.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT" he shouted at her.

She nodded her head hard spluttering out a cough. Sherlock at last managed to rip off the bomb and through it out of the window. "Out of breath…Sherlock I'm fine."

Sherlock again took her head in his hands his eyes darting over her face. What he saw shocked him. He saw so much pain; she looked like she had been completely striped of all human kindness.

"What have they done to you?" he breathed he felt such pity for her and care, he never felt such feelings before.

"Good question! Sherlock" said a familiar voice. Moriarty.

Sherlock stood himself and Suzanne up; she managed to be silent and not to show weakness. Sherlock held her tightly against himself fearing Moriarty might try to shoot them both with his million snipers.

"Don't be silly Sherlock" echoed Moriarty "I wouldn't put myself or my men on the line. Not with eighty bombs, fire and gun shot to finish you two off." He laughed. "I doubt even Sherlock Holmes…Or Suzanne Miles can escape this one. I can now blow you two and all of my worries sky high."

Sherlock looked around frowning "but you won't because it's not polite or very sportsmanship."

"OH I DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO love our little chats Sherlock! Very well how about this! If you two cannot escape from my little trap in…let's say thirty seconds the day is yours and you two can go off into the sunset yahda, yahda, yahda,…BUT if you don't then I'll blow you up! How's that?"

Sherlock and Suzanne exchanged a look of horror. Escape a burning house, with no door, no stair case, and no fire department…in thirty seconds.

"Your time starts…now…"

30.

Sherlock let go of Suzanne and walked to the staircase. It was raging with flames. The front door and stairs were no option.

29.

Suzanne walked with the best of her abilities to the window waving and trying to signal a person from below.

28.

BANG! "Naughty, naughty, Suzanne you're not aloud outside help. Just for that ten seconds penalty." Moriarty laughed.

17.

Suzanne looked apologetically towards Sherlock. He didn't seem to notice.

16.

'Come on Sherlock' Sherlock thought holding his head, 'think! Data, data, data, data," he thought of 221B Baker Street's foundation. Too high to survive a fall or jump. No outside help.

15.

Suzanne put her hand over her chest coughing out the fumes, with any luck they might black out before they were blown up.

14.

She looked around the room for a piece of material. She found a piece of sea rope. It seemed sturdy enough.

13.

Sherlock thought about the other buildings the one right in front of 221B Baker Street could be an option, the nature of the explosion would blow out its windows.

12.

"Sherlock" Suzanne murmured. He immediately turned to her; Suzanne was holding the rope in her hands, the hope he had used to…swing out of the front window. "It's strong Sherlock." She murmured to him. "It's strong."

11.

Sherlock smirked at her. He took her face in his hands, but before he could do anything she gave him a firm hug.

10.

Sherlock tied one end of the rope around himself.

9.

Suzanne attached it to the gutter pipe before handing it to Sherlock.

8.

Sherlock threw it to the other window, it didn't catch.

7.

He reeled it in he threw it again. It didn't catch.

6.

Sherlock closed his eyes last shot. Suzanne raised his arm slightly and swung it for him. It clanged against the other house's roof railings…But it caught onto something.

5.

"Will it hold you?" she asked pulling the rope a couple of times.

"Will it hold US don't you mean?" Sherlock snapped. "No arguments".

4.

Suzanne nodded a little gulping a little. The house looked like it could barely take Sherlock's weight let alone her own with it.

3.

Sherlock took her hand and pulled her to the very edge of the fire. He closed his eyes concentrating.

2.

He opened his eyes defiantly. They both broke out into a run. Suzanne had already hit her wall but she ran with Sherlock giving him all she had left.

1.

They both jumped through the window.

0.

BOOOOOOMM!

221B Baker street was a powerhouse of flames, the explosion cause both Suzanne and Sherlock to crash through the window (an inch out and then it's be the wall). The people on the ground where thrown onto their backs.

The fire engines _then_ came

*08:00, Sherlock Suzanne, 223B Baker Street*

Sherlock groaned as he sat up the rope was still around his waist. Suzanne was lying beside him.

Something wasn't right. Her breathing was all wrong. They sounded like chocks and gasps…not a healthy breath…

He had broken her.

Sherlock was suddenly transported down memory lane. When she fell form that building, and she laid on that blanket, her arms and legs stretched into odd angles. This time though her hands where laid on her diaphragm, her hands meeting one laid on the other. Her head lolled to the side her right side of her face lying flat on the ground. Her long red brown hair (even longer than he remembered) was flat on the ground small tangles and dread locks were fanning out under her face and head.

Sherlock took a step towards her. He was scared to touch her. He went down on his knees he reached out a hand to touch her. He stopped himself midway. He had to command himself to do it, he couldn't do it on his own. His hand went on one of hers. She was so cold. He had never felt anyone so cold (not even on a corpse).

"Suzanne" he said shaking her hands.

She didn't move. She only opened her eyes for him. "Did we make it?" she asked a little slurred.

Sherlock nodded but then remembered "yes."

"We better have….Something's burst inside me…I can't get up…"

"Suzanne?" he asked a little louder this time.

She didn't move. Her eyes looked away. And then shut.

He moved his hand up to cup her cold thin cheeks. She didn't even flinch away.

"Come on Suzanne not yet."

He picked her up into his arms, like he had done last year in the rain. Her limp body lay in his arms, yet this time she slurred out breaths, still trying to hang on.

He laid his forehead against hers he had been so close "Come on Suzanne…not yet" he thickly said.

He felt tears in his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks.

"Come on Suzanne, wait a bit longer. I can get my act together. Please just wait for me to… Just wait a little longer…I'm sorry…I'm so, so, so, so sorry…But if you hang on I promise I won't do anything out of line…I'll get a job…a car…you can even push me back into line" he whispered the tears now rolling down his face, he smiled a little at the last comment but the tears still carried on coming, "Please Suzanne please…Hang on a little bit longer…Please….John's getting married…You can't miss that…Please Suzanne…Don't leave me again…"

…


	11. Epilogue

!

THANK YOU TO:AlicexRxH and KittyKatZorse! You're great! ALL OF YOUU!

Here it is…The last chapter….THIS IS SOOOO SAD! DX

Epilogue

*01:48am, Suzanne, Kings Hospital*

Suzanne lay in her hospital bed, her bad hand laid next to her. Well it wasn't bad anymore she just used that to differentiate the two hands. It was slung into a stiff piece of plaster for nine days now, while she had been out of it the doctors and nurses had done their best to patch her up. Like she had her left foot plastered as well, a haircut, and hearing aid for her bad ear (until next week's operation which they'll try to help her interior problems, like her broken ribs, ear and shattered left hand).

But she was on the mend though, for two days she had been eating solid food, she was given a couple of books to occupy herself: twilight and the Da Vinci Code, oh well beggars can't be choosers. She had even managed to walk around the bed a little today, while leaning heavily on her new stick and holding onto the bed covers.

She sat laid back fully her head flay on her pillow. She had forgotten what it had been like sleeping on a bed; it had nearly been three lifetimes ago.

John and Sarah had visited her on the Thursday, which was a good visit. Sarah her usual caring self, giving her grapes (even though they were giving her nutrients by a tube then) and John the honest fist friend to every man had cheered her up. They had come today too, just as she was solidly plodding around her room. She had enjoyed this visit a little more: considering she felt a lot more dignified sitting on the bed and not lying flat, and she could actually eat the grapes Sarah gave her.

She had not yet been visited by Sophie yet, mainly because she had just sent a 'letter' to s that she was in hospital, she also knew Sophie wouldn't be able to come to terms with this as well as most. Sophie would be in denial, then shock or fear depends, then acceptance, cowardliness, until at last she will face her problems. And hopefully visit her.

Lestrade did also; he had talked to her about what actions the authorities would take on the court matter in hand. They weren't talking about a man hunt for Moriarty and catching as many criminals as possible to take justice for what they did to Suzanne. They were talking about her. Yep, the police hadn't seemed to have forgotten about what had happened last year and faking one's own death didn't earn many points with the law also. She wasn't looking at a prison sentence, thank God. After she was given the all clear with the doctors, she was to be sent to a holding place where the mentally ill was kept. Goody.

Sherlock hadn't visited her yet. John had told her that he had tried to visit her on Monday.

She cringed even now. On Monday…She happened to be still in a coma through exhaustion. The doctors had given her a drug to quote on quote: "perk her up a little". Her blood and body was still stuffed full of drugs and toxins that had been given to her, the medicine reacted badly to that and she immediately started to fit and her heart failed.

She didn't remember much all she really did remember was sharp pains in her chest and body, while a nurse murmured "come on sweet heart. Come on."

She still hoped Sherlock had run out of bottle when he was making his way to the hospital, but knowing her luck he probably came and saw her failing until the bitter end when she chocked out a breath.

Had he been scared?

Was that the reason why he didn't come to visit her? No, probably not. Sherlock wasn't deep, he probably saw what a weak human she was and got out when he could.

She sighed a little, she felt the breath go up into the cold night air and turn into a tiny cloud. Only to disappear in a split second.

She suddenly felt something else. A person was watching her. A man. She opened her eyes trying to sit up. Moriarty? Packham? Wayne? All of the above went through her head as she tried (unsuccessfully) to pull herself up, but only one name appeared when her senses smelled the cold air, and felt the bold figure in front of her, his hands dug deep into his pockets. Only one man had such poor timing as this.

Sherlock. He was standing there. He was. She knew it. In her dreams she often could only smell him, feel him or hear him but never all at once. She wanted to dive under the covers like a little girl pretending she was asleep or ill.

But he knew. And she knew he knew. No point trying to beat about the bush, Suzanne at last pulled herself together enough to sit up, she tried not to think of him watching her as her ridiculous nightdress stretched against her in the wrong ways.

They stayed in silence. Both knowing the other could see each other.

This wasn't the moment when the man runs to the woman on the beach in slow motion in a sunset.

No, this was the moment when the socially awkward detective met the blind female detective, after the blind female detective faked her own death and the socially awkward detective kissed the blind female detective's worst enemy and arch rival.

Sherlock didn't make a sound.

Suzanne didn't either.

Both not sure whether they should be angry with the other or thankful that the other wasn't dead.

Suzanne made the first move. It started that way and it was going to end that way.

"Why did you come?" she asked, looking down at her lap.

"…"

"Sherlock….?"

He said nothing; instead he turned away and tried to walk away.

"Sherlock." She snapped at him making him stop. "Look at me."

He turned his head to look at her, even though his body pointed to the door.

"What…What is this Sherlock?" she called a little teary eyed, "I am so tired. I don't have the energy anymore to, to…_fight _with you. I…I know this is not what you expected…You wanted me to slap you across the face telling you not to go to Irene anymore but….I can't do it any more….You don't need me. Not like you used to. I'm a shadow of my former self. I wish I had never been born. I know I have bought this all on myself but…I….I thought about you every day. I wondered sometimes what it would have been like if I hadn't….If it had finished with a different outcome but…I'm here and your there on the other side, and this time there is no bridge I can cross to get to you. And you're not making this easier Sherlock. Why would you? You're Sherlock Holmes a prime person to add burdens, make roads more complicated and longer, never satisfied, never grateful. You think just because I'm plain, obscure and _little _that I have not the same feelings as you. I can match you black for black, hurt for hurt, and can hold as much pain as you can, and if I was born with some beauty, intelligence and money, I would make this goodbye just as hard for you as it is for me. Sherlock….You don't need me anymore." She whispered the last part tears running fully down her face now.

Sherlock looked at her, his back still to her. He looked down at the floor breathing hard. He felt a pain in his chest seeing her in such a state of darkness and pain. "You're right…You're right…I don't need you. You'd slow me down and as…capable as you are…my dear…You'll never live up to the standard I am. Irene is more qualified…capable…brilliant…prettier…and younger than you, superior to you in every respect." Suzanne looked away slightly. These words hurt but she needed them to finally get over Sherlock. There was a silence.

"…But" Sherlock whispered now fully turned to her. Suzanne looked up at him, tears running down her face.

"…But…I still want you. I've wanted you for so long, even before we first met. You've filled a gap inside me that I thought could only be filled by work. I've missed you for so long and my life for the past year has felt so empty without you…"

Suzanne took her face away slightly, her eyes slightly wide. She put her hand over her mouth as she tried to slip away into the wall. Sherlock took her wrist in his own.

"Suzanne please. All this time I've wanted to tell you my feelings for you. But I've always felt fear that it was a weak option but…Know I don't care…You are too precious to me to lose you again.

Suzanne Miles I love you. I always have. Right from the moment I first saw you to right know this very second. Will you love me back?" He asked sitting down on the bed opposite to her

Suzanne looked straight at him fully. Tears were still falling from her face a little. But instead of sobs came little laughs….Of happiness.

In her wildest dreams she couldn't have imagined this.

She put her arms around his neck and Sherlock placed his arms around her waist as they felt their lips against each other's.

"…Sherlock wait…" Suzanne whispered taking her face away from his. "I should think about this…" she whispered looking away. "…I've thought about it" she whispered, taking his face and kissing him again.

They lay there kissing. When they needed to break for air they looked at each other.

Suzanne smiled at him. "Hello Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock smirked back at her. "Hello Suzanne Miles."

Sherlock balanced his head on top of hers. She laid her head against his chest.

Suzanne closed her eyes; she knew it was not going to be an easy ride with Sherlock. He could be temperamental, unsocial, might not show any affection to her, and might not even say he loved her after tonight. He would never consider marriage. He would cringe at the thought of having a child with her. He'd cringe at having a child full stop.

But did she really want any of that? No she didn't…not really. What she wanted more than anything was Sherlock. She loved him. And he loved her and…whatever rough patch they might go through…She'd still have tonight to remember the first time Sherlock admitted…

That he loved Suzanne Miles.

**HOLD IT! IT'S NOT OVER YET!**

**[not by a long shot ^^]**

*?, Irene Adler, ?*

'_My dear Wayne…..I've done everything for you….I have killed for you…Kissed another man for you….Even teamed up with that idiot Moriarty for you….Well if Sherlock Holmes and Suzanne Miles think they have seen the last of me…then they have another thing coming. All I'll say is….They better sleep with their eyes wide open…._

*London Prison, Packham, ?*

Somewhere in a high security London Prison, two lunatics escaped the first to come out into the pouring rain wore a long black leather coat. A scar coming down the left side of his face.

"!

Well, don't celebrate too soon Suzanne Miles and Sherlock Holmes. Now it's MY turn. And I'm NOT ALONE!"

Behind him coming out of the darkened building, two red cats eyes stared right ahead. And a roar….A roar to foreshadow a great cry in London, one that will never before ushered or ever will be again.

Rang out through the raining darkened London streets to show the dawning…Of a new monster released into the sleeping and vulnerable London.

*03:21am, Suzanne, King's Hospital*

Suzanne woke up…What a dream…She had dreamt that…Packham…Irene…A thing….*sigh* only a fool's imagination. Her head was still on Sherlock's chest. His chin was still on the top of hers. He was asleep.

She smiled up at him, when she looked down again though her brow was creased with worry and doubt. Only one thing was certain:

The dream might have ended.

But the nightmare had just begun…

…

The End

A huge thank you to all of my readers who have had the curtsey of reading and reviewing the Suzanne and Sherlock stories I have written ^^. For those wanting a sequel, I'm afraid you'll have to wait. Sorry =^^=. But I want to go onto other projects and I think if I carry on anymore I'll begin to overrun into the second series of Sherlock, which I would like to wait for until even considering on starting on any new SherlockxSuzanne fan fictions (unless I get like thirty reviews telling me I have too or I'll go to hell or something…). A sequel will come though.

If ANYONE wants to borrow ANY of my original characters for their own fan fictions then you are more than welcome just email me telling me you are going to do so ^^ thanks.

PLEASE REVIEW! I want your reviews DX…..please….please…pretty please…

…

Yugicanbesexy.


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